


rip that map to shreds, my dear

by cartoonheart



Category: Grey's Anatomy
Genre: (but don't realise it), F/M, Meredith and Andrew are terrible at keeping secrets, Secret Relationship, Sneaking Around
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-25
Updated: 2019-05-21
Packaged: 2019-12-07 20:36:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 28,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18239909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cartoonheart/pseuds/cartoonheart
Summary: It takes some time to get used to it all. The sneaking, the whispering, the attempts at making plans with sidelong glances down empty corridors. It feels quite furtive, quite sexy really, like they're doing something they shouldn't. And although she has good reasons for this whole endeavour, Meredith can't lie - she's enjoying the covertness a bit more than she should.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is the sequel to [erase and rewind](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17567306/chapters/41401607) although it _can_ easily be read as it's own stand alone story. 
> 
> But in essence, it picks up where 'erase and rewind' left off and exists in the same universe - hence why it's not quite in line with the present show canon (because I can't write fast enough).
> 
> There will be a second part, for sure. Potentially a third depending on things.
> 
> Thanks, as ever, to the brilliant [KatieWho](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KatieWho/pseuds/KatieWho) \- ever patient listener, co-conspirator, and wonderful beta!

"We need rules."

It's the morning after the night before and she's cornered him at an empty nurse's station. He looks up, surprised at her sudden appearance by his side.

"Good morning, Dr. Grey." His smile is more of a smirk, and even though it's only been a few hours since she's seen him, a few hours since her bedroom, her stomach lurches with recollection and lust. She thinks of the weight of his body, the heat of his skin, and tries to keep her face under control.

"We need rules," she repeats, trying to ignore the way he's angling towards her, eyes fixed on her face. Her body already feels so attuned to his, like each movement he makes sets off a chain reaction in her own.

"Rules?"

"Yes. Rules. For this." She looks at him pointedly, so that he can't mistake her meaning. His eyes widen a little. "Rule one-"

He puts down the chart he's been examining and waves his hands at her. "Wait, wait, wait. How many rules are there going to be? Do I need to take notes?" He's teasing her, of course, his mouth not even trying to hold back a grin. She likes the way he smiles, with his whole face, like he's lit up from within. 

Despite that, Meredith wants to whack him on the arm, but she's conscious that there are still enough people passing by to ensure that they aren't really alone. That physical violence against a resident, even if playful, would definitely be noted.

"I'm serious!" It's a protest, even though she's smiling too. And she's hoping that her interest, her feelings about him, aren't written all over her face for everyone to see. It's hard even being this close to him knowing that that's where the line is. But she's a professional, and she refuses to give in to her base instincts just because a handsome man smiles at her.

Even though he is _very_ handsome.

He's watching her, waiting for her to continue. But when she doesn't, he speaks instead.

"Fine," he accepts, with a shrug of his shoulders. She remembers the broad smooth swoops of them, and tries to shake herself back into the present moment. "We can have rules, if that's what you want. Can we discuss them over lunch?" He's already pushing the boundaries, clearly knows that he is. It's more of a challenge that he's laying at her feet. 

She's already not sure about them eating together. At least, not in the cafeteria. Wouldn't that be too obvious? It's not like the attendings and the residents tended to mix at the best of times, and when they did, there was usually one specific reason why - and that's the one reason she's trying _not_ to broadcast to everyone in the hospital right now. 

Despite what he knows is already a big ask, he looks so hopeful and so eager that she doesn't want to disappoint him. But he must realise by her delayed response that he's going to be out of luck and his face eventually falls.

She feels mean, even though they both know she's not wrong to hesitate. And truly, the idea of not seeing him for the rest of the day doesn't thrill her either. She knows she's the one who asked to keep this whole situation quiet for a little while - and it's not that she regrets that - but there's nothing to say that she has to enjoy every second of it.

"How about," she murmurs, leaning a little closer so as to not be overheard, "we happen to run into each other, by the coffee cart, around one?"

He exhales softly, pleased enough by her suggestion, although she can tell he also wants to kiss her, has that particular look on his face. It's been less than twenty four hours since this has started up again, and already they're falling into those old rhythms where he knows exactly how to look at her to communicate what he can't say. Regardless, she's grateful that he's restraining himself. Not because she doesn't want to kiss him - she definitely does - but now isn't the time, and she's pretty sure that if she let him, they would struggle to ever stop. 

"I'll see you then," he nods, holding her gaze steadily. His crinkling eyes are still saying far too many things that she doesn't have time to interpret right now. His presence is still overwhelming, and she senses that this is going to be a challenge, if only for the way that she feels like she's blushing from head to toe just by standing next to him.

She bites her bottom lip. "I've got to go." She has a consult upstairs that she needs to get to. "See you later?"

He grins broadly. "I'll bring my notebook."

\---

They meet for coffee. 

He actually brings a notebook too, even though she knows he's only done it to make her laugh, because he doesn't write anything in it. Instead he just peers at her over his coffee cup as they sit on the bench a respectable distance apart.

They formulate the rules. Or rather, she does, and he nods along, occasionally pushing back but in a mostly half-hearted way. It's like he already knows how to pick his battles with her and besides, this is just temporary. She senses that he'll endure it in the meanwhile if it's what she really wants.

When she goes to leave she's not sure how to say goodbye to him. It feels wrong to just get up and walk away, to leave him sitting there without a gesture or something more. But they are in full view of anyone that chooses to walk by, and so anything they do has to be appropriate. And she's definitely struggling to figure out what that looks like.

Besides, she's not even sure when they'll see each other next - what with the hospital, and her kids, and really, they do need to figure all of that out soon too.

"Can I call you later?" he questions, as she hovers awkwardly between going and not going. He's got this look on his face like he expects her to say no, because is that even what people do now? Call each other? 

She could make things easier and just invite him around after her children have gone to bed, but she also wonders whether that is too much, too fast. She wants to play it cool, because after outlining all of their rules, she feels too much like a stern headmistress, and not in a good way. 

So instead she says "I'd like that," and takes the chance to walk away before she changes her mind about everything they've just discussed. She senses his eyes on her as she leaves. As she gets inside, her phone dings. Tugging it out of her pocket, she tries to smother a smile when she sees his name.

_Consider this text is me kissing you goodbye. I'll collect later._

Oh damn, this is going to be hard.

\---

Tom Koracick likes coffee. He likes a _lot_ of coffee and he is too much of a snob to drink whatever muck is in the attending's lounge. So when he can, he goes outside to the cart because it's far more tolerable, and he likes the fresh air.

He notes Meredith Grey and that good looking resident sitting on a bench in the sun together. In and of itself, it's not that strange. Doctors are allowed outside the confines of the hospital walls sometimes, and occasionally they do that together. But this combination is new, he thinks. And he's not sure why Meredith is letting her lunch break be interrupted by a resident. Tom tries to give them all a wide berth himself.

Besides, he's not sure the conversation is strictly work related. There's a lot of smiling and flirtatious glances, and if he's not mistaken, the resident - DeLuca, is it? - looks at her a bit like a dog does a juicy bone. Tom knows that look. He wonders if Meredith Grey knows that look. She certainly doesn't seem to be immune to his attractive Italian charms.

He'll keep an eye on this situation. Not because he's that invested, of course. But he likes to know the gossip because you never know when it might come in handy.

\---

It's four days later, and there's good and bad news.

The good news is that they haven't broken any rules. And to be honest, four days ago, on that bench, she wasn't even sure if they'd last the day. 

The bad news is that the only reason they haven't broken any of the rules is because they've not seen each other, barely had a chance to speak. Usually she's fine with being busy - she likes being busy, likes the adrenaline rush - but this type of busy has given her just enough time to daydream about him, but exactly no time at all to do anything much about it.

For so many years, she'd gotten used to being alone. Not fulfilling certain biological urges, because honestly, she thought she'd feel dead inside forever, and she'd just accepted that as the new normal. And then Riggs had proven to her that it wasn't completely true. And then Andrew had come along and awakened every residual nerve ending and spine-tingling feeling that she thought had died along with Derek. 

Surprising as that was, it didn't help her now. It didn't help when she was leaning over the operating table and wondering where he was. It didn't help her when she lay in bed at night wondering whether he was thinking about her while he was stuck at the hospital. It didn't help her when she thought about his mouth or his hands or the way his tongue had...

She sighs. So yes, she had needs. And urges. And all of those inconvenient things. And so no, they hadn't broken any rules. But that's probably only because she hadn't been able to get anywhere near him.

\---

"Meredith? Meredith?"

Amelia might as well be talking to a ghost, a small blonde ghost who was staring across the cafeteria with a look of yearning etched onto her face.

"Huh? What?" Meredith practically jumps out her seat, almost upending Amelia's tray of food.

Amelia tries to track what has distracted her sister, but there isn't an obvious answer. Webber looks to be in an intense conversation with Alex, and DeLuca and Schmitt are hovering nearby, as if awaiting their instructions. DeLuca's peeling an orange with careful surgical precision and Schmitt just looks confused by whatever he's been caught in the middle of. Nothing that fascinating or intriguing. 

Amelia picks up her apple, twirling the stalk around and around until it snaps off. "Are you alright? You seem oddly fixated?"

Her sister's head snaps back, her eyes narrowing. "What do you mean fixated? What are you talking about?" Meredith's tone doesn't invite challenge, and to be honest, Amelia just wants to eat her lunch in peace.

Instead she shrugs, takes a bite of her apple. "Whatever. You're being weird."

\---

The fact that they keep missing each other is clearly getting to him too. He's been stuck at the hospital on nights, and so when they have crossed paths, he looks so exhausted that she feels sorry for him. 

He texts her each day regardless. And it's sweet. She's not used to it. Mostly it's just everyday things, like what he's scrubbing in on, or how Helm is getting on his nerves. Occasionally it's to wish her goodnight or good morning, and tell her that he misses her. His openness is endearing, it's one of the things she admires about him, his ability to lay everything out with no shame or bashfulness. She's working on reciprocating.

So when he finally is back on days, and back on her service no less, it feels like they're at breaking point. They've now gone from barely being in each other's presence to being constantly together and he keeps looking at her like he wants to eat her alive, and despite herself she likes it. 

But when she catches Owen giving their behaviour a confused look at a patient's beside, she knows she has to nip this in the bud before things escalate to a point that she can't control.

"Dr. DeLuca, can I speak with you for a minute?" Her tone is consummate professional, even if Andrew's expression is about to give them away any second now. Owen says nothing, just backs away like he senses this doesn't require his presence.

She pulls Andrew into the nearest x-ray room and closes the door. He's already advancing on her before it's even shut and she has to take evasive action before he gets too close and she loses her resolve completely.

"You can't look at me like that while we're at work. It's one of the rules."

He stops in his tracks, tilts his head, like he's a labrador retriever, alert and attuned to her tone. "What do you mean?"

She rolls her eyes, even though it's mostly playful, but stands her ground. She tries very hard not to focus on the breadth of his chest, the coiled strength in his upper arms as he folds them in front of him, waiting for her to respond.

"The staring, the _looking_. You can't do that. It's a rule." She wants to point out that he's doing it even now, staring at her like he's seen her naked and that he'd like to repeat the event as soon as possible. But they are alone now, and so she'll indulge it for a bit longer. Because yeah, she likes it, and it's not like her mind isn't wandering too.

"No, it's not," he fires back, slowly encroaching again on her space as he usually does. She has to put her hands on his chest to stop him coming any closer. She thinks that's probably what he wanted anyway. His body is warm under her palms and she can feel the thrum of his heartbeat echo through her fingertips.

"Isn't it?" she retorts, trying to give him a wary look but probably failing miserably. "Is that what you remember?" She hopes she sounds withering, but her barely smothered smile is undermining any kind of authority.

"All of your rules are right up here." He taps an index finger to his temple. He's teasing her again. He's been doing that a lot these days. "But that wasn't one of them."

Damn. She thinks he's right. 

" _Our_ rules. Not my rules." Meredith feels the need to point this out, if only to deflect.

"They're mostly your rules," he asserts, his voice doing that thing where it's low and smooth and her insides feel like ruffling feathers. But she tries not to give him any reaction, instead just raises a solitary eyebrow.

"Fine," he concedes, far too quickly. "They're our rules, because I'm powerless to stop you. And I want to make you happy."

She melts a little, she's not going to lie. Because he's so disarmingly sweet and sometimes she forgets that because of how damn attractive he is. By all accounts, he should be an arrogant jerk, but instead he's kind and endearing, and she doesn't doubt for a second that he means every word. 

But he's leaning in, and he knows better than to lean in, even if they are alone in this small room. 

Her brain starts to betray her, because her body is already half way down the road that can only lead to her to throwing off any pretence at professionalism. And surely it wouldn't hurt to bend the rules, just a little? His lips are very close and are very inviting. 

No, no, she can't fail at this already - it's barely been any time at all. And given that she set these boundaries, it feels like a point of pride that she sticks to them, if only to prove that she can. 

"It's a new rule, the no staring at me," she announces, even as her hands run a trail down his chest. 

He smiles, because her inner turmoil is quite clearly bubbling out onto the surface, and he's almost enjoying her struggle. She's rewarded with that familiar tilt of his head. "That's going to be difficult to enforce."

She laughs a little, because he has this knack of pushing her just enough, while also simultaneously making her heart feel like it's floating in her chest.

"No staring," she repeats, shoving him gently away, even though she'd much rather be doing the opposite. She makes a quick escape while she can. Nevertheless, Meredith can still feel him staring after her.

\---

Grey and DeLuca are being weird.

Owen can't quite figure out what it is - can't put his finger on it. But yeah, they're being _weird_.

Being in a room with them both feels like he's been caught in the middle of a conversation that he has no context for. And usually Owen doesn't care, isn't one to be bothered by these sorts of things, but he's starting to feel like he's unwelcome and he's not even sure why.

Are they having a disagreement that he's not aware of? He thinks the treatment plan for the patient looks solid, and Grey agrees. And DeLuca's a respectful guy - if he has a problem he usually speaks up, is reasonable with his questioning. 

Owen's aware they had a thing - a minor thing. Amelia mentioned it at the time, even though it hadn't really registered on his radar. But that was a while ago now, and he'd seen them in the OR together being perfectly civil, perfectly normal. But this feels different somehow, even though he can't figure out why.

Maybe Amelia knows something? Yeah, he'll ask Amelia.

\---

That night, as soon as her kids are in bed, she texts him, inviting him over. It's not that late, and his reply is instantaneous. _I'll be there in twenty minutes._ The relief she feels is palpable.

She wants him, of course she does. Because this week has felt like one of the longest of her life. Her body needs him and craves him, and now that they've experienced what they are like together, it's hard for her to focus on anything else. But at the same time she also wants to just curl up in his arms and kiss him and have him be there and just be anchored by his presence. 

He shows up at her door, his hair still damp from the shower. His rucksack is slung over one shoulder, and his motorcycle helmet dangling from one hand.

"Hey," he breathes, looking a bit undone, a bit overwhelmed. As much as they both want this, it's still new and intimidating and nerve-wracking too. He drops his things by the doorway and takes no time in pulling her into him.

Damn the rules, she thinks, as his hands brush her sides, and slide further down over her hips. Damn them, and everything else. She's a bit worried about how flimsy her resolve is if this is all it takes. But right now she doesn't care who knows that this man wants her, and she wants him. As long as she gets to enjoy this and experience it, after years of being left out in the cold, not thinking this was ever going to be possible for her again.

He kisses her like she's wanted to be kissed all week - urgently and desperately, all pent up energy and desire and desperation. She's about ready to undress him right then and there, when he pulls away abruptly, looks at her with soft eyes.

"Have you eaten?" he asks, and her mind is so clouded that she thinks it is some sort of strange entendre until she realises by his tone that he's asking a genuine question, and so she shakes her head.

And that's how he ends up cooking her dinner.

\---

There's sex after dinner, and it's so fantastic that it actually makes her renew her determination to stick to the rules she's set. Not because sticking to them is going to be easy, but because she can't bear the idea of having to share this feeling with the world yet. It feels too precious and fragile to be picked apart by vultures, preying on their relationship like it is theirs to know and interpret and scrutinise.

And yes, it's a complete turnabout from earlier - when she'd been ready to tear up the rule book and all that went along with it. But hey, she's allowed to change her mind, right? That's completely her prerogative, and she's damn well going to own that.

So no, she'll stick to her original plan. Although it amuses her to think that if Andrew knew the sex was renewing her determination to keep everything quiet, rather than the opposite, he maybe wouldn't be quite so pleased with himself. But either way, what he doesn't know won't hurt him on this occasion, and by the way he's curled up around her, she doesn't think he minds all that much.

\---

It takes some time to get used to it all. The sneaking, the whispering, the attempts at making plans with sidelong glances down empty corridors. It feels quite furtive, quite sexy really, like they're doing something they shouldn't. And although she has good reasons for this whole endeavour, Meredith can't lie - she's enjoying the covertness a bit more than she should.

It's nice having a secret. Especially one that looks like he does, one that half the nurses fawn over when his back is turned. It makes her feel smug, albeit a little possessive. It's unnecessary, of course, because he doesn't seem to notice, is oblivious to pretty much anything that isn't medicine, or her. And yeah, okay, she feels a bit smug about it. She's human.

She's started categorising their interactions like an incoming trauma - which when she thinks about it, is probably not a great analogy.

Him touching her arm in an empty hallway? Low risk.

Him "accidentally" running into her in the cafeteria, hands slightly grazing her hips, in front of half their colleagues? Medium risk.

Him leaning down, far too close, lips whispering into her ear in front of Richard, Maggie and Bailey? High risk. 

It's not that she doesn't want him to touch her. God knows that now that she's become familiar with how his hands feel on her skin, it's hard to not think about it _all the damn time_. 

And she's probably not helping, she knows. Meredith's not sure she's exactly following the rules either. It's not like her eyes don't linger a little too long on him sometimes, not like she doesn't intentionally put herself in his path on other occasions. The whole thing is almost like a test that she wants him to fail, despite the words that come out of her mouth. She likes that she can make him lose himself. It makes her feel powerful and desired. 

He's turning out to be a bit rubbish at the secrecy though, she thinks, although she knows it mostly isn't intentional. He is trying to follow the rules, even if his idea of professional behaviour doesn't quite coincide with hers a lot of the time. She keeps having to amend the rules, extend them, just so that they're both on the same page. If he hadn't been a doctor, she thinks he would've been a great lawyer, given that he manages to find any loophole he can to exploit her careful system.

It's both annoying and hilarious, the way that he spends so much time figuring out how to work within her parameters, while simultaneously testing every boundary she's set. It becomes a game, one that she's sure she'll eventually lose and one that he's not even trying to win because at the end of the day he'll always back down, always let her push him back into place, accepting it with good grace. She knows he wouldn't push if he couldn't sense her underlying enjoyment. Nevertheless, in the meanwhile, she's still getting what she needs - time, a chance to settle into things, settle into him and his ways and how he makes her feel. She's getting there, getting closer to where she needs to be, but she can't deny she enjoys the thrill for now.

Despite all of the games, he adheres to the obvious things when they are in company: no touching, no flirting. He still stands a little too close, stares a little too hard sometimes, before she has to shoot him a look and he'll hastily correct himself. 

For about five minutes, before he conveniently forgets again.

So when she runs into him coming out of an on call room, just as she's going in, the tension is undeniable. What they both need to do is walk away, but after having almost slammed full force into his chest, she's not immune to her mind going a bit haywire. He still looks a bit sleepy, eyes hooded like he's just coming to. It reminds her of how he looks in her bed, in the early dawn light, and her heart skips a little. She should back away, let him pass, but instead he steps aside, back into the room, to let her enter, and she just knows where this is going.

The door clicks shut behind them. They stand, staring. They're alone. That feels low risk. But she locks the door, just in case.

As soon as her fingers snap the lock, he's in her space. There is no force involved, in fact, he doesn't even touch her, just hovers, like he's awaiting permission even though the fact that she's locked them in should be all the clue he needs.

"Hey," she breathes, her hands pressing against his shoulders, before clasping together behind his neck. She lets her body weight fall against him, and she feels his own hands slide around her waist. 

"Hey," he replies kindly, eyes creased and soft. The expression in them makes something bubble up inside of her.

"I think this needs to be against the rules," she murmurs, his mouth so temptingly close. 

"This?" he questions, one hand sliding up her back, moving her body somehow closer still. Her chest presses against his and she mentally curses him because he's far too smart at this, far too able to read her lack of resolve.

"No being alone in on call rooms."

"No one has to know," he responds, his mouth finally connecting with that spot under her ear that he's discovered she likes. Her body feels like it's humming with electrical current.

"These things have a way of being found out," she mumbles, but nevertheless tilting her head to give him better access. Meredith accepts that she's not exactly giving him a clear message here, but she's also missed his touch, so she'll take what she can.

"Mmmm," he acknowledges, in a way that indicates that he's still listening but hasn't been persuaded. His stubble grazes across her skin, a delightful friction, and she really wishes they weren't here at the hospital, weren't in the middle of their working day.

"Andrew." Her tone is sterner this time, a little more forceful. Enough to give him pause anyway. He leans back, stares down at her, and she feels a wave of lust wash over her. He's so damn inconvenient.

He's dutifully waiting for her to say something, give him instructions. Because although he loves to challenge her, push her boundaries sometimes, he also knows precisely when to back down too.

She sighs, her hands unclasping and smoothing a path down across his broad shoulders, down his upper arms. She needs to have resolve. They need to keep things professional.

But given that they're alone now, it would be rude to waste the opportunity, if only for a minute.

So she kisses him long and hard, and it takes him a moment to register it - she's taken him by surprise. Meredith likes that she can do that, he who is usually the one who throws her off balance more often than not. But it doesn't take him long to react, now that he knows he's allowed. He responds with fervour, mouth sliding against her own in such a way that he's aware she won't let this get too far, but that he wants her to find it as difficult as possible to pull away.

She does manage eventually, even though she has to unball her fists from where they've curled into the front of his scrub top. The fabric comes away wrinkled under her fingers, and he grins like a big idiot, which was not the reaction she was expecting.

"So no more on call rooms?" he asks, an eyebrow raised.

She's feeling spiteful, because Meredith likes to feel in control and a part of her resents that he has the power to make her lose it. 

"No more on call rooms," she echoes firmly, and in the moment, she means it. Because if she leaves that door open, it's a slippery slope that will lead to far more inappropriate behaviour and she's trying to be the strong one here.

"Okay," he smiles lazily at her. And to emphasise his agreement, he reaches behind her and unlocks the door.

She takes the opportunity to retreat, twisting out of his arms, and wrenching the door open with a force she didn't know she had. He practically has to leap out of the way to avoid it hitting him. 

She gets half way down the corridor before she realises that she'd actually gone into the on call room to sleep. She turns to look back and sees him exiting, adjusting the collar of his lab coat, and pacing off in the opposite direction. 

Suddenly she's not tired anymore.

\---

Who are they kidding? Like, seriously? Do they think everyone in this hospital is blind? 

Helm likes to notice things. She observes. She's an observer. And so when Meredith Grey leaves that on call room, looking flustered, and is shortly followed by Andrew DeLuca, Helm _knows_.

Well, she'd kind of suspected something a while back, because DeLuca's always had a face like a puppy dog when Dr. Grey was near, and Helm knows what it's like to pine after someone unobtainable. So _join the club, DeLuca_ she'd thought back then, filing away the information that he and her at least had something in common.

But huh, she thinks. This is new. Dr. Grey had the look of someone who has been kissed, lips swollen, face red. And DeLuca, well, he looked like the cat who's got the cream, if the cat was also kind of lovesick and a little bit over the moon at the turn of events.

It isn't really any of my business, Helm thinks somewhat bitterly, returning to her patient's chart. But if it was meant to be a secret, they weren't going to keep it for very long. 

\---

He practically falls through the door of the supply closet, half looking where he's going, half not, and when he sees her, he freezes.

"I didn't know you were in here!" His hands fly up in a defensive motion, as if he expects her to shoo him out. Nevertheless the door swings shut behind him, and they're alone in the dim light.

Meredith believes him this time. His surprise to see her is genuine, and at this point, his eyes are already scanning the shelves for whatever it is he's come in here for. 

For once he's doing exactly what she has asked him to do - behaving, following the rules - and yet she feels a little disappointed that he's not even trying to win her over with one of his many charms.

Everything inside of her is telling her to let this one go. Let him walk out and get on with his day. But she's got some time to kill, and the inclination, and the fact that he's practically ignoring her is actually more of a turn on than she wants to admit. 

He's rifling through the endless supplies when she approaches. She leans casually against the shelf beside him, tilting her face up to his.

His eyes flicker to her despite his preoccupation. They trace over her lips, only for a second, but it's enough for her to knows she's got his attention now, even as he's looking away again, trying to continue his task.

She sighs heavily, obviously. "I'm sure I said no to us being alone together in small rooms." She absolutely knows she didn't say this. Waits to see if he'll take the bait. 

He does.

"No, you didn't." He shakes his head, stopping what he's doing. 

She tries for indignant. "I did!"

A suspicious look crosses his face, and instantly she knows she's overreached, that he knows exactly what she's trying to do. This is the worst attempt at entrapment that may have ever taken place. She half expects him to call her out on it - mock her mercilessly. But Meredith can also tell he's weighing up the options, and has figured out that playing along with her is ultimately going to be more rewarding.

"You said no being alone in on call rooms. This isn't an on call room." Andrew's voice has turned into a low whisper, gruff and deep, and it does things to her insides. He motions around the supply closet like he's presenting prizes on a gameshow.

She can't help it. She snorts. It's unglamorous. He looks bemused, but lets it slide.

She pretends that she's been caught out, even though they are now playing the least believable game of chicken ever. "Okay, so technically - _technically_ \- you're right. But do you really want to win on a technicality?"

With every word she's inching closer, and with every word he's letting her. He looks about ready to pounce, but that would be him conceding to her, and on this occasion she knows he won't, even if only out of pride. But if she's honest, her dignity feels like it's long gone, because all she can think about is sliding her hands up and under his scrub top and running her hands across his bare back, smooth and firm and...

His mouth is moving but it takes her a moment to register what he's saying. "I wasn't aware there was a scorecard," he's murmuring, his breath hot against her ear. "Is there a scorecard? Am I winning?"

He's definitely winning, maybe not overall, but certainly right now. Meredith's not entirely sure she isn't going to combust right here, and once again her resolve snaps.

It isn't graceful. If she were being kind, she'd say she no less than launches herself at him, with very little finesse. It's more that it's a mad scramble to see what part of him she can reach first, before her idiot brain realises she doesn't need to decide, and she just goes for broke.

To his credit, he manages not to fall over, manages to keep both of them upright, although it's precarious for a moment. And when he realises that she's really given up any idea of having control, he somehow manages to pick her clean up off the floor. It takes only half a second more for her legs to encircle his waist and oh god, she hasn't done this in a very very long time. She feels young and stupid, and absolutely and utterly free.

He kisses her for a long time, because she's sure he thinks that this is really all that can really happen here. After all, they're in a supply closet where any of their colleagues can walk in, and she knows from past experience that there isn't even a lock on this damn door. So they really, _really_ , shouldn't be doing this, especially if they like the idea of their privacy remaining intact.

But Meredith thinks she's going a bit mad. Or has already gone mad. One of the two. Because even though she acknowledges how _not smart_ this behaviour is, the idea of stopping right now seems equally as ridiculous.

Andrew seems content to let this happen for a while - because kissing is a retrievable situation - and they are slightly hidden by shelves, in the shadows. It would give them enough time to detach should someone walk in. But when her hands go to remove his scrub top, he pauses, pulls back from her mouth.

"As much as I am enjoying this," he chokes out, clearly trying to ignore the press of her hips against his, "I think anything else is definitely against the rules."

To be fair, it isn't. They never said they couldn't have sex in the hospital. It had been implied, of course, because it just seemed to be a given that it wasn't even on the table. And maybe if she'd asked herself even a few hours ago whether this was on her agenda for the day, she would've laughed. But he's making her reckless and eager and maybe that's a little unhealthy. 

And in all honesty, she doesn't want to stop. _Really _doesn't want to stop. And she can feel, despite his words, that he doesn't want to stop either. But he's also being the smart one.__

__She sighs, pressing a kiss to his neck, the long curve that appeals to her so much. "You're right," she concedes, her hands still threading through his soft hair. His eyes flicker shut at the sensation, and so on instinct she kisses him again - gentler this time, slow and sweet and full of everything that's aching inside her that will just have to wait._ _

__He practically melts into her, even though he's also the one keeping her upright for now. She always likes the way he does that, like he's both simultaneously strong and weak and the combination excites her._ _

__"Meredith," he murmurs, and it's almost like a plea. And she knows what he's trying to say. Because as much as this is killing him, it's also killing her. And they've still got hours of this day left before anything can be done about it._ _

__"I know," she agrees, even though he's not really said anything - doesn't need to. She moves to kiss him again, lingering and full of promise because this really needs to be the one they say goodbye on. But of course, instead, it's the one they are interrupted on._ _

__Meredith can't help it. She squeals in surprise, and Andrew shoots her a look that is both amused and exasperated that she's given the game away so quickly. He's quick enough to lower her to the ground with some grace, and Meredith leaps out of his proximity._ _

__"Who's back there?" Bailey's voice rings out sharply, distinctly unimpressed. Meredith hates to think how many times Bailey has walked in on things that she really didn't want to see._ _

__But there is also no point pretending that no one is there, so Meredith tries for calm and collected. She motions for Andrew to stay back and out of sight._ _

__"It's just me," she responds, emerging from the shadows, hoping the obvious isn't written all over her face, her body language. "You gave me a fright."_ _

__Bailey gives her a look, as only Bailey can. It's as inscrutable as ever._ _

__"I just need a suture kit," Miranda says, nodding towards the shelf next to Meredith's right shoulder._ _

__Meredith's grateful to have something to do, hands the kit over, and waits for Bailey to say something more. But she doesn't. Bailey just gives her one more look, and then turns on her heel and leaves._ _

__As the door shuts, Meredith breathes a sigh of relief. She can already hear Andrew laughing behind her in the darkness._ _

__\---_ _

__Miranda Bailey is no idiot. Not even a little bit. Not even close._ _

__Because Meredith Grey was not alone in that supply closet, and it doesn't take Miranda half a second to know who was there with her, even if she couldn't see him. After all, she's the one who sent DeLuca to fetch a suture kit twenty minutes ago, and although he's pretty, he's not stupid enough to have gotten lost on the way._ _

__So if Grey and DeLuca think they are fooling her, they've got another thing coming. Getting busy in supply closets? Honestly! Bailey doesn't need a repeat of the McDreamy era, as much as she liked the man._ _

__Miranda takes pride in the fact that she notices things, hears things. And last she heard Grey and DeLuca were a thing, then weren't a thing. And then she was with Dr. Lincoln. And then she wasn't._ _

__Bailey's not a monster. She's not one to spread gossip, even though if it happens to fall into her ears, well, that's not her fault. But Grey and DeLuca are clearly back on again, and also clearly think they're flying under the radar._ _

__And who is she to ruin that? Meredith's been through so much, and if she wants to claim any scrap of happiness she can, Miranda isn't going to judge. In fact, over the past few weeks she's seemed happier than she's been in years. And if that's down to the resident, then Bailey can only be silently thankful to Andrew DeLuca._ _

__That doesn't mean she won't give him hell about disappearing on her when she sees him next. Because while she's willing to extend a little for someone who seems to have made Meredith Grey smile again, Bailey doesn't do special treatment._ _

__But she'll keep their secret. That she can do._ _

__\---_ _

__part 2 coming soon_ _


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> But Andrew does make her a bit stupid, she's realising. And that isn't his fault. He's just the prompt for something that clearly has lain dormant inside of her for all these solitary years. He somehow turns back the clock for her - makes her feel new and unbroken, and that's kind of... _everything_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you to [KatieWho](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KatieWho/pseuds/KatieWho) for the beta. 
> 
> I wasn't sure if this fic was going to be two or three parts - but it is officially going to be three. So this is the second part. Enjoy!

After the day she's had, Meredith is just thinking about getting out of her scrubs and into a hot bath.

She's definitely not thinking about getting Andrew out of his scrubs and into her bathtub, not at all. Because that would be admitting that she's distracted and she's _god damn Meredith Grey_ , and she's the sun, and so she's above this sort of behaviour.

That said, if you'd asked her this morning whether she thought she'd almost be caught making out in a supply closet by Bailey, she would've laughed. Or asked if she'd somehow managed to time travel, because she hasn't behaved this way since Derek, and she was young and stupid then - and she hadn't had the same handle on herself that she likes to think she has now.

But Andrew does make her a bit stupid, she's realising. And that isn't his fault. He's just the prompt for something that clearly has lain dormant inside of her for all these solitary years. He somehow turns back the clock for her - makes her feel new and unbroken, and that's kind of... _everything_.

It takes her half a minute to decide, but she feels relief when she does. She pulls out her phone.

 _Are you free tonight?_ she texts. Even just seeing his name on the screen gives her a surge of joy. That's further compounded when she sees he's already read her message and is responding.

 _I was about to ask you the same thing_ , his reply says. It's funny to think that he's somewhere in this building, sending these messages, thinking about her right at this very moment. A second message comes in quickly behind it. _Come round to my place_.

She hasn't been to his apartment since before. Before Link, before the disaster that followed. So the fact that he's asking feels kind of symbolic. Besides, she likes his place. It's very _him_. Last time she'd visited, he'd cooked for her. Their situation had been new and fresh and she had still been trying to figure things out between two different men, and it felt like centuries ago that she was that person.

This time all she wants to do is see whether his bed is as comfortable as it looks.

 _I'll be there_ , she types out, smiling to herself. _Looking forward to it._

\---

He cooks again because he's a good cook, and Meredith appreciates that sort of gesture. It's kind and thoughtful - and besides, she doesn't get the chance to enjoy a home cooked meal much these days, and Andrew seems to have figured out her lack of culinary skills quite quickly and is prepared to make up for her deficit.

She's loitering while he potters about in his kitchen. He cleans as he goes, which is very surgeon-like of him, but it means that he's a bit preoccupied, and so he's missing the very intense looks she's trying to send him from across the room. She's trying to say: _I really don't care about this food right now. Please take me to bed_. But Andrew's humming softly to himself, half has his back to her. She's practically itching with impatience and lust, and she's not convinced she'll be able to make it through a whole meal without lunging across his tiny dining table. It all feels a bit teenage, a bit hormonal, like they've finally gotten a moment alone and she doesn't want to waste a second of it with polite niceties and playing house. Sure, she likes that he's so domestic and that he has no problem with listening to her talk endlessly about her day. But she also likes the side of him that can confidently remove her bra with one hand, while simultaneously make her tremble just by kissing her.

She's not even sure how he's playing it quite so cool right now. After all, he'd been in that supply closet too, had been just as into it as she was, albeit the more sensible one in that moment. She'd be annoyed at his present state of calm if not for already knowing just how much she undoes him, having witnessed it first hand on a number of occasions. Even now, the memories of him losing himself to her invade her mind at the most inappropriate of moments, and she's beginning to suspect that she likes these distractions.

But still, this minute, she decides to act. So she comes up behind him, slides her arms around his torso, and presses her chest against his back. His motions still and he turns his head in her direction.

"Hey." His tone is soft, yielding, and it seems that maybe he's interpreting this as her needing comfort, closeness. And yes, she does want those things too, but she definitely also wants something else. She keeps going back to the supply closet and the feeling of the shelves hard against her back, him against her front, her thighs tight around his hips. As of right now, she can barely keep herself in check.

"Hey," she echoes, wanting him to turn around, but he's still chopping chives and Meredith doesn't even care for chives that much.

Her next movements are precise because she's trying to make it clear to him that she's not going to be set aside, that she wants his undivided attention. Her hands, that had been resting gently across his stomach, tug at the fabric of his shirt, pulling it away from his body so that she can slide her fingers underneath. His skin is warm, like always. He pauses momentarily, but otherwise doesn't react.

For someone so smart, he can really be so dumb sometimes, she thinks. It's either that or stubbornness, which probably isn't out of the question, knowing him. And in this game of wills, she doesn't like to be on the losing side.

Her fingers trace against his skin, barely there, but she can feel goosebumps form under her touch. Her path continues lower, a clear destination in mind. With one hand she manages to undo the top button of his jeans, no easy feat from this position. Her fingertips graze against the waistband of his underwear, a clue.

She both feels and hears his sharp inhale, then the metallic sound of the knife clattering down against the chopping board.

"Meredith, are you trying to tell me something?" He twists in her grasp suddenly so he's facing her, his back leaning against the counter top. His eyes look dark, a heady mixture of intensity and longing. His focus is now razor sharp, trained directly at her, and now she knows she's got him.

She stretches up, pressing every inch of her body against his now. She's making her intentions _very_ clear. Her mouth is a whisper away from his own, and it's taking everything in her power not to close that last gap, if only to maintain the pretence that she's got some semblance of control left in her. But actually Meredith feels a bit unhinged, and usually that would worry her, but something about this all feels really right, and how things should be.

"No," she murmurs softly. "I'm not trying to tell you something. I'm trying to _show_ you something."

She raises her hand, undoes the first button on her blouse, and she sees him swallow hard, and that little reaction makes her feel triumphant, powerful. His face seems to have a million emotions etched all over it, but the primary one is just how much he wants her, and Meredith hopes he can see that reflected in her own.

"Not hungry then?" he grins, head tilting slightly, eyes creasing in the corners. He's honestly so beautiful when he smiles, and she wonders for the millionth time how she fought against any of this for so long. His hand moves to cup her face, a thumb stroking tenderly down her jawline.

"Not for food," she teases, and it's the perfect thing to say - she couldn't have planned it any better if she'd tried. It's cheesy, but effective, because within half a second he's grasping her to him, his hands suddenly on her thighs, lifting her. It's like a repeat of earlier today, and that's probably exactly why he's done it. Because yeah, she's been thinking about that all afternoon, and clearly so has he, and so yes, they have unfinished business.

He holds her like she's weightless, but she clings to him anyway, expecting to feel unbalanced and precarious. But she doesn't. She feels safe and secure in his hold. She trusts him, and that revelation quietly washes over her in a way that doesn't terrify her. She's slow to trust - she knows that - but it feels easier with Andrew than it has felt with anyone else in a long time.

His mouth meets hers with eagerness, openness. Her tongue chases his and she adores the way he responds without hesitation, just humility and his unabashed need for her.

She loves to kiss him. Not only because he's so _fantastic_ at it, but also because it never feels like a means to an end with Andrew. He enjoys the act itself, seems to have an endless capacity for it, which can be both brilliant and maddening in equal measure. And right now, when it feels like her very bones are on fire, it's exhilarating and frustrating to a distracting degree.

Their mouths separate long enough for her to let him know. "Bed. Now."

He gives her this look, like he can't quite believe she's being so bossy. But she also notes the expression in his eyes. His pupils are so dark, so blown out, that Meredith can tell it's absolutely working for him, and she can't help but smirk as he leans in to kiss her again. She files that information away for future reference.

He carries her to his bed, and lays her down with a gentleness she doesn't expect. He's still trapped between her thighs, as she has no intention of releasing him now that she has him so close. As a result, his body tumbles down with her, but he's careful to not let his weight fall on her. All these little things make Meredith adore him more, even in what she considers to be this heightened state of reality where she feels outside her body, because all she wants is to feel him inside her, all around her.

For once, he doesn't waste time, and she's grateful. Her blouse is quickly discarded. His shirt too. Her blood is thrumming at pace through her veins, and even though he's moving quickly, it still doesn't feel fast enough for her. She's not quite sure when she's last felt this sort of urgency, this overwhelming _need_ for a man that wasn't him, but she knows it must have been years ago, longer than she'd care to admit.

Her hands go to his jeans, to the remaining buttons of his fly. She can already tell how ready he is, and Meredith can feel his body tense, renew, when her fingers graze against him. He lets out this sound, low in his throat, and her body responds so viscerally to it that she thinks that if it were possible to crawl inside of this moment forever, she would.

She's about to push his jeans off his hips, when something distracts him, his head pulling back and away from where it had been connecting the dots in a path down her neck. There's knocking at his front door.

She freezes beneath him. "Are you expecting someone?"

He looks horrified. "No!" The knocking has stopped. They both wait, absorbing the silence. "Probably just someone selling something," he mutters eventually, shaking his head, and moving back towards her.

He's right. The culprit seems to have vanished. His mouth wastes no further time, his tongue resuming its trace along her collarbone, and despite the interruption, she's quick to surrender to his renewed attentions. His hand threads through her own, pressing their entwined fingers into the mattress, palm to palm, and...

"Andrea?" a woman's voice rings out from the other side of the solid door. There's a distinct sound of keys rattling.

Carina.

They are both bolt upright in moments.

"What is your sister doing here?" she hisses, lunging for her blouse which has somehow ended up on the other side of his bed.

He's already standing up, frantically trying to do up his jeans, while at the same time attempting to locate his shirt which is on the floor behind him. "I don't know!"

The jangle against the lock gets louder.

"And why does she have a key to your apartment?" Meredith yelps, whilst also looking down and realising her blouse is now on inside out. She huffs in frustration, giving up on the tiny buttons entirely.

"Your sisters have keys to _your_ house!" he retorts, while at the same time definitely _not_ staring at her still exposed black bra.

She rolls her eyes, and snaps her fingers at him. "Focus! And that's different!"

He gives her a stare, and she wants to snigger but she doesn't think he'll appreciate it. There's a final sound of his apartment door unlatching, the slight creak of hinges. Carina's voice again, much clearer now. "Andrea?"

Meredith mouths the word 'Andrea' to him, and he half laughs and half scowls as he pulls his shirt over his head, runs his hands through his messy hair.

"Carina?" he calls loudly, as Meredith looks for somewhere to hide that will be out of sight.

"You're home!" she hears his sister say, quiet footsteps becoming louder.

Andrew looks down at her. "Stay here," he whispers, leaning over and quickly kissing her on the lips. His initial anxiety seems to have faded away in the last five seconds, and Meredith's not quite sure how that happened. Then he smiles. "Or don't," he grins as he steps away. "It's up to you."

Meredith knows what he's saying, but she's not quite sure she's ready for that. Carina is Carina, and ultimately, she knows Andrew's sister would be kind and keep this secret should they ask. But that isn't a decision Meredith feels she can make right at this moment, when she's had no time to think, no time to get used to the idea, map it out in her head.

Andrew's gone out to see his sister, and Meredith makes sure she is tucked behind the folding screen that separates his bedroom from the rest of his apartment. She can't be seen, but she can still hear everything, even though the conversation quickly switches to such speedy Italian that she can't quite follow enough of it to make any sense.

So instead of listening, Meredith thinks about what he's offered, and why he's offered it. And it's true - they've kept this secret for a while, and it's been going well. No one has noticed anything odd, and they've managed not to arouse any suspicions. But she knows this wasn't designed to be the status quo, the way of things. She'd wanted this to be temporary, and he had indulged it with good humour for the most part.

Was she almost ready to let the world in on this? Were they ready?

She's reflected a lot, maybe too much, as to why she's asked this of him when she knows he'd have no problem with shouting his feelings for her from a rooftop if she'd let him. Andrew was clearly ready to do that, had probably been from the get go, but had gone along with what she wanted. He's freely admitted that he doesn't have any qualms about letting everyone know their situation, and letting the chips fall where they may. But that was him in a nutshell - open and passionate, and not that bothered about what other people think.

Meredith likes to think that she also doesn't care about what others would make of it, of them. And that's true. Her want for secrecy has never been about embarrassment or shame, or any of those sordid things, and she knows that he knows that. Really, she just needs to adjust. To him and her. To them. And to her no longer being Meredith Grey, single and alone, but to Meredith Grey, part of a functioning, healthy, adult relationship.

Meredith does feel more prepared than she had been a few weeks ago - back when they had started this thing, and were finding their way. She knows this secret isn't going to keep forever, and nor does she need it to. What she actually needs is a game plan - a course of action. Because at the moment, she'll admit, she's drifting. And yes, that's nice in a way. She doesn't have to make decisions, or deal with consequences. She just gets to enjoy this and enjoy him, and not focus on the rest.

It won't always be like that, she knows. And reality can be cruel. She just wants to make sure that she, and him, are ready to withstand it together.

So, a few more weeks, she thinks. But soon.

\---

Carina knows she probably should've called first, given what she knows now. But usually Andrea doesn't mind when she just shows up. It's not like he's been dating recently or has any real friends that she knows of. Ah, no - that's mean of her to say. But either way, it had never been a problem before.

But tonight? Tonight he had been elusive and awkward. Like he hadn't wanted her there, and it made her suspicious.

And it's then when she had spotted it. A coat - an out of place coat. It was pink, so it was definitely not Andrea's coat. A woman's coat.

And what's more? Carina knows that coat. She's actually admired that beautiful coat a few times these past few months at the hospital, and that's how she recognises who it belongs to almost immediately.

Meredith Grey is here.

Her stupid little brother has probably asked her to hide in the bathroom, or something equally as ridiculous and beneath a woman of her stature and brilliance. Part of Carina wants to torment him, tease the truth out of him - but at the same time, she remembers how forlorn he had been over this woman in recent months. He'd resorted to visiting Carina in Rome, tolerating the moods of their father, and that's something he'd never have done unless he was lovesick and truly running from his pain.

So the fact that Meredith Grey is somewhere in his apartment is actually very good news indeed, she thinks. And Carina, as much as she'd like to uncover it all, senses that now isn't the time. If he wants her to know, he will tell her. As it was, he is trying very hard to make up excuses for her to leave, and for once, she'll let him think he's in charge.

Maybe he'll realise eventually that she'd figured it out almost immediately - but given that he seems very much distracted, and no doubt wanting to get back to whatever it was they were doing, Carina decides to be the bigger person for now.

She likes Meredith Grey. She really does. And she thinks her brother will be good for her - almost as much as she'll be great for him, if she's not in the business of breaking his heart again. Carina has a sense for these things, is skilled at telling when two people are right for each other. And in this case, she has a good feeling.

In the meanwhile, she'll wait for him to tell her.

\---

They've kept things secret for a whole month, Andrew points out to her one day, while he's standing behind her in line at the hospital cafeteria. Her back is to him, but she feels him leaning down over her shoulder, his breath warm against her neck, and she tries not to shudder at the sensation. It reminds her of how he sighs against her in the heat of things, and she's really not in a position to think about that right now.

She's grateful at least that he's whispering, so that no one around them can overhear. And although he's not touching her, he is still very close, and she knows that to any observer, their body language must probably look a lot more familiar than it should.

"It's not going to be secret for much longer if you don't step back, Andrew," she hisses through gritted teeth. She doesn't mean for it to sound so harsh, and really, she doesn't want to be. But Amelia had already questioned her a little too rigorously the other day when Meredith had asked her if she could babysit yet again, and so she really doesn't want to add fuel to the fire, not after they'd managed to successfully lay low all this time.

She senses him pull away, and then immediately feels bad. She hadn't meant to take it out on him, so decides to risk turning to look back at him.

He looks a little wounded, but not overly so - more just confused at her brusqueness of her words.

"Are you okay?" His eyebrows go up, eyes wide, and she curses that he can read her so easily.

She waves her hands at him, a half apology. "It's nothing. Don't worry. What were you going to say?"

He glances around them quickly, leans in again, but not as closely as before - clearly wary enough of her to not risk it. "I said, we've managed to keep this quiet for a whole month. I think we should celebrate."

He has a twinkle in his eye, and she's almost persuaded herself that he's going to suggest something scandalous like that she meet him in an on call room, just to see if he can get a rise out of her. She wouldn't put it past him, because technically she hasn't yet officially amended the rules to say there was to be no sex on hospital premises.

She's also not one hundred percent sure that if he were to ask that, she'd have the strength to say no.

But of course, he surprises her, as always.

"I'm going to take you out."

She frowns, twists her neck a bit further to get a better look at his face. He looks as proud as punch, and she admits, something inside her rears its head in excitement.

She raises an eyebrow at him, trying to pretend she's noncommittal. "Out?"

He chokes back a chuckle, reading her expression for what it is - a poor attempt at disinterest. He starts leaning again.

"Yes, out. On a proper date. Somewhere fancy. Somewhere _romantic_." His voice somehow manages to drop a whole octave, and she's pretty sure both her knees actually quiver in response. She exhales loudly, breath catching in her throat, and instantaneously the corners of his mouth upturn.

There's very little point pretending she's not affected by him, or his words, or the very idea of him _romancing_ her. Before now, Meredith's never been able to say that she's a romantic person, or that she requires it in a partner. But now that she's come to experience the full force of his charm on a number of occasions, the novelty of it has not yet worn off, and a part of her hopes it never does. And while they've been out before - before Link, before everything else - recently, they've been more inclined to steal quiet moments at his place and hers, and so the idea of an actual date out in public feels like something new again.

She swallows the lump that's appeared suddenly in her throat. "Romantic, you say?" Her palms feel sweaty, and she presses them against the sides of her lab coat.

His tone remains low, deep. "Very."

\---

He's right. It's romantic as hell, and she's not sure she was quite prepared.

But as the evening wears on, she relaxes a bit. Because all in all, it's still just him and her - only that the tableware is fancier and the lighting is dimmer, but other than that, they are just themselves. They laugh and joke as always, and he grabs her hand in his between courses.

They are at a small table in the back, and it's quiet and private, and so when his hand rests gently on her thigh, she doesn't have to feel anxious about anyone seeing them - because right now they are just an ordinary couple, having a lovely evening, and they don't have to worry about glancing over their shoulders. She can easily admire how well his suit fits, and the fact that he's even put on a tie. And she feels no shame in pressing her foot against his calf, and enjoying the way his eyes light up in anticipation for what might come later. He's right - it is romantic, and it's also _fun_.

They are pondering whether to have dessert when a voice cuts through the air of the restaurant. Her veins turn to ice, and she can feel him freeze beside her.

"But Richard," says the voice, and it's loud and boisterous and immediately familiar. "I wanted our usual table!"

Andrew turns to her, face set in surprise. "Is that-"

"-it's Catherine. _And Richard_ ," she finishes, voice rising in panic, because it is the latter of the two that really causes her concern. Because yes, she had a father, but she also has a Richard, and suddenly she's a little girl again, wanting approval. She senses Andrew is not particularly thrilled with the idea of potentially being caught on a date with someone Richard considers a daughter, not after what had happened between him and Maggie.

"Are you kidding me?" he pleads, looking skyward. He mumbles something in Italian that she can't comprehend, but she senses it's probably not polite. Her undergrad Italian doesn't really get her very far with the more colourful local phrases.

Catherine looks amazing as always in a vibrant red dress, her hair falling about her shoulders, and Richard trails in her wake, both with a sense of admiration at his wife, but also with docile grace, as if he knows better than to challenge her wishes. Of course this is the sort of place that Catherine Fox would frequent. It seems she's also on a first name basis with the maitre d', and is pointing at a table in their direction.

"Oh god," Meredith mutters, trying to hide her face behind her hand, like that might help shield her from view. Andrew shoots her a confused look, before grabbing a menu and opening it and using it to hide them both. While he looks a bit stricken, she can also sense he's kind of amused, and she's beginning to think that he just enjoys the drama this whole situation brings.

"We can't stay here," she hisses, as she risks a peek over the top of the menu. The maitre d' is sitting Catherine and Richard only a few tables away, and although there's a chance they won't see them, Meredith isn't sure she wants to take that risk by sticking around. Then again, there's the added problem that they'll have to pass by their table in order to get to the exit, and Meredith guesses that even if they left separately, the game would be up.

Andrew's been deep in thought while she's been puzzling their situation, and after a moment, he waves over the nearest waiter. "Can I grab the check please?" He sounds calm and in control, but she fails to see how he's going to get them out of here unseen. And the fact that she's looking to him to provide a solution is a new and emerging feeling that she doesn't have time to analyse right now. Yes, she knows that they could just brazenly walk out and own this whole entire situation should they be seen, but at the same time, she's not quite sure it would be the way she wants to announce this to Richard, of all people. She feels she owes him something more.

"What are you doing?"

Andrew shrugs. "Paying the bill. We can't leave without paying." She can tell by his smirk that he's being deliberately obtuse with her, and in another circumstance, she might have been okay with that. But she's in too much of a state to really want to play.

"And how do you propose we leave? We can't just walk out of here. _Past them_."

He smiles, grabs her hand under the table and gives it a reassuring squeeze. It calms her a little. "We won't go past them. We'll just go out through the kitchen."

She shoves him lightly with her other hand in disbelief, and he lets her with good grace. "People do that in the movies! They don't do that in _real life_."

He shrugs again, more brazenly this time. "Sure they do - otherwise why would it be in all those movies?" He's teasing her, but she can also tell he's actually serious about his plan. As she contemplates this insanity, the waiter delivers the check, and Andrew pays before turning back to her.

"Look, I know it's a bit crazy. But the alternative is us walking out right past them - and I don't know about you, but I don't fancy our odds. And while I can live with being found out, I have a feeling that that's not where you're at. So, yes. My serious suggestion is going out through the kitchen. There's always an exit through the kitchen. Did you never wait tables when you were younger?" He cocks an eyebrow at her in a cavalier sort of way. What he's really saying is that _it's up to you_. And yeah, she could be brave tonight and just accept the inevitable. But his idea does sound like a lot of fun and she's learning that life is a lot more enjoyable when fun is included.

"Alright," she agrees, glancing over his shoulder towards the swinging doors of the kitchen. "Are you ready?"

\---

They stumble out of the fire exit, leaving a sea of confused restaurant employees in their wake, one who had almost dropped about four plates of food in surprise at their arrival. Her hand is tight in his, and as they fall into the darkness outside, he stops and pulls her into him.

"Do you want to admit I was right now?" He's laughing and breathless, and she's the same.

Her arms wrap instinctively around him, and she lets herself absorb the warmth of his body. The dress that she'd so carefully chosen was beautiful, but really wasn't going to prevent her from feeling the cold. They are in a sort of alley, tucked away from the main restaurant parking lot, and although she's pretty sure there are some overflowing trash cans only feet away from them, she does feel like the night, all in all, has been pretty damn romantic.

"Fine," she smiles, raising her head up to look at him. "You were right. Although I'd rather not make a habit of this."

He tilts his head, chuckles. "Why not? You're pretty swift in those high heels," he jokes, his arms curling around her waist.

She laughs again, feeling light and happy, lucky to be under the night sky with him, even after this slightly ridiculous situation. She leans up, presses her lips to his, and immediately he presses back. She feels the race of his heartbeat against her own, and she thinks of how they could be in bed right now, and so breaks the kiss before it can deepen any further.

"Thank you," she murmurs, as she lets her arms fall back to her sides, and grabs his hand in her own. "For being okay with this. I know it's weird. But I promise, I'll be ready soon."

His eyes are soft, caring, and she sees depths in them that she can't quite explain, but is grateful for nonetheless. "Honestly, Mere, it's fine. I understand. I'm just happy to be with you, you know that right? So if you need time, that's okay with me."

A wave of tenderness sweeps over her, and she offers one last kiss to him before tugging them towards the parking lot. She's getting cold, and as far as she's concerned, the night isn't over yet.

They walk to her car, and as she's fishing around in her bag for her keys, she finds her coat check tag. "Oh!" She holds the item up so Andrew can see.

It takes him a moment to recognise the item in the poor light, but when he does, he's as chivalrous as ever. He offers out his palm. "I'll go grab it. I'll be quick."

"Thank you," she sighs as he paces off to the front entrance. In the meanwhile, she unlocks her car and gets in the driver's seat, contemplating whether to drive them back to his place or hers. Either way, she needs him with her, and that thought is almost as comforting as the man himself.

She knows she's still asking a lot of him, even though he's been exceedingly patient in the face of it all. And even though her desire for secrets has led to them scurrying through a restaurant kitchen like a couple in a guilty affair, they had managed to evade reality once again for tonight. But Meredith's starting to wonder when their luck is going to run out.

\---

Richard's perusing the menu, but is actually still contemplating why Meredith's car is in the parking lot. He's had a quick glance around the restaurant, but he can't see her. Was he was mistaken? But he was so _sure_ it was her car. It had children's toys in the back, and the number plate was so similar that he thinks he must be right. Who would she be here to meet? It really isn't the sort of place he'd imagine her being these days, and as far as he knows, she's not dating anyone.

"Oh, Richard darling, I left my phone in my coat pocket. Would you be a doll and go get it for me?" Catherine's long eyelashes bat at him across the table, and although she really doesn't need to go to that effort with him, he appreciates that she does. She smiles like a cat, and he feels like he is twenty years old again.

"Of course," he agrees, taking the offered coat tag and heading towards the cloak room.

As he approaches, he sees an unexpected, but familiar figure.

"DeLuca?"

The man whirls around, like he's been caught red handed. His face rearranges quickly into one of generic politeness. "Dr. Webber! How nice to see you."

The conversation falters already, and Richard tries not to feel uncomfortable. He likes the resident well enough, thinks he's easily the best resident of his year, and he'll be a fine surgeon when the time comes. But it's another thing to see someone outside the hospital and in a setting like this. The attendant takes both of their tickets and heads out the back.

Richard feels the urge to speak. "Are you having a nice evening?"

DeLuca's face reddens, his mouth opens and then closes again. "Yes, sir. Thank you. And you?" Richard can feel the waves of embarrassment rolling off the younger man, although he can't quite fathom why. They're friendly, on good terms. This really isn't that big of a deal.

"Yes, wonderful," he replies. "I'm here with Catherine." He's not sure he should ask the next question, but they're still waiting and so he feels the need to keep speaking. "How about you?"

DeLuca's face reddens further still, and he stutters uncharacteristically. "I've, uhh, just been on a date."

Richard feels suddenly awkward. It really isn't his place to enquire further, but thankfully the attendant is back, and is offering them both their respective coats.

"Oh, well - I hope it went well," Richard finishes lamely, wishing that he'd never said anything in the first place.

DeLuca nods, and it's unclear whether it's in agreement that it had, or just an acknowledgement that he's heard. Either way, he seems eager to leave. "It was nice to see you, sir. I better go. I'll see you at work."

There's something so off about the entire exchange, but Richard can't put his finger on it. He's never seen DeLuca flustered like that - he's never seemed the type. He always seems confident and together at the hospital, and although Richard can't say he's quite forgotten that this boy dated Maggie, it seems that everyone else has moved on from that, and so there was no reason for him, as her father, not to do the same.

Still, something doesn't add up.

He retrieves Catherine's phone from the pocket of her coat, and returns the garment to the attendant.

As he sits down, Catherine's looking at him eagerly across the table. "Richard, I just realised who that couple was!"

Richard feels like he's walked into the middle of a conversation. "What couple?"

"The couple that ran into the kitchen about ten minutes ago - you know, when the waitress almost dropped all that food?"

He remembers. But he's not sure what it has to do with anything.

She tells him.

 _Oh_. He thinks. Well, that does explain a few things.

\---

"What do you think?"

Meredith is jolted from her reverie by her sister's voice. She's drifted off again. Her mind had had her back to waking up in Andrew's bed that morning, the feel of his body pressed against hers, skin against skin. And then to the shower, the very very steamy, very hot shower, until they'd been in there so long that the water had run cold.

She's been trying harder than ever lately not to think about him at work, but then she'll catch a glimpse of him in the corridor, and her brain betrays her. It's becoming a problem. She's been a bit lax with the rules lately too, and perhaps that's why her thoughts about him are bleeding into her work day, distracting her.

Meredith turns to look at Maggie, who is staring at her with a look of intense puzzlement. She knows she's caught Meredith in a daydream and that's not something that happens very often.

Meredith's eyes focus back on the scans, and although she can see the problem, she's not even been thinking about how to solve it. She's been thinking about Andrew DeLuca, and his talented...

"Mere?"

Maggie's mouth has turned into a cheshire cat grin, and Meredith's sure her face is going bright red.

"Sorry," she mutters, rubbing her head with her hand, trying to make something up on the spot to save her from what surely is to be Maggie's forthcoming inquisition. "I've got a bit of a headache."

A lie. But it's just one of many these days that she's almost become accustomed to it. She feels a little bad, to have been so blatantly deceptive to pretty much everyone in her life about this. But this isn't a small thing for her, and she needs this time to make sure it's all clear in her mind. She's allowed _some_ secrets, even from her sisters, and besides, it's not going to be for much longer, she knows.

"Oh," Maggie frowns, sympathy evident. "Do you need something? I need some coffee." She swivels in her chair and turns to Qadri who's been hovering over their shoulders. Meredith had forgotten the intern was even there. "Can you get us some coffee? The good stuff? From the cart outside?"

Qadri nods and scurries away. Silence falls again, but just when Meredith thinks she's escaped, Maggie turns to her.

"Are you okay?"

Meredith gives her a sidelong glance. "I'm fine. It's just a headache."

Maggie softens into a smile, a bit indulgent. "That's not what I meant. You've been... different lately."

Meredith knows exactly what Maggie's trying to get at, but the reason she's different is because she's... happy. The happiest she's been in a long time. It's painfully obvious to her, but naturally, probably a bit mysterious to her sister, who she's been telling barely even half truths to for the past few months now.

She shakes her head, turning back to the screens, as if that might draw the conversation to a close. "Nothing's different. Everything's the same. I don't know what you mean." Even to her own ears it sounds false, although maybe she's just projecting. Nevertheless, Maggie clearly doesn't buy it.

"It's just that you seem really... content. Happy. I was just wondering if there was a reason?"

Maggie's still angling at something, but Meredith's not ready to engage. Not today. So yet again, she deflects.

"I am happy, Maggie. I have three wonderful children, a great job that I love, and you as my sister." Her tone is upbeat, smiley. And it's all true. All of those things do make her happy. But she knows that the added layer of satisfaction that she's been wrapped up in recently has a very different source. And apparently that's been bleeding through enough for Maggie to notice.

Maggie reaches over and squeezes her hand briefly, an acknowledgement of the compliment. But Meredith thinks she still senses a hint of disappointment behind her sister's eyes, like she was expecting something more.

"Okay," Maggie shrugs, turning back to the task at hand. "But if there's anything you want to tell me, you know you can, right?"

Meredith nods, thankful that the crisis has been averted for now. "Of course," she agrees, knowing that there will be a time - in the not too distant future - that she'll have to let Maggie know everything. But not today.

\---

Qadri's shifting her weight from one foot to the other, the soles of her feet burning from being on them for so long. She really needs to sit down, but she's waiting in line at the coffee cart, stuck behind some older gentleman and his wife, and it feels like she's been here an eternity.

She knows she's only an intern, and that means she is little better than a glorified dogsbody at this point. And she likes Dr. Pierce, she's nice. But getting coffee feels like the lowest of all the tasks, even if it is allowing her to get a glimpse of the sky and a breath of fresh air for the first time today.

She's in a daydream when she's called on to place her order.

"A double espresso and... uhh, oh..."

Her mind has gone blank. This never happens. She's always prided herself on remembering all the attending's coffee orders. She starts muttering to herself while the barista stares at her a little, like she's going mad. He's cute as well, and so that makes Qadri feel even more awkward.

She mumbles through her mental list in the hopes of finding the answer she needs. "Dr. Avery, cappuccino, no sugar. Dr. Altman, uh, strictly hot chocolate at the moment, two sugars though. Koracick, double espresso, same as Dr. Pierce. But... Dr. Grey... what does Dr. Grey drink? Why can't I remember?" She's starting to get a little frantic.

"Skinny latte, no sugar," interjects a voice from over her right shoulder. Qadri turns to see DeLuca standing there with a self-satisfied smile on his face.

"What? Really?"

He grins, nods. "Yes, really."

She relays the order to the barista, and then turns back to DeLuca who is now fishing his phone out of his lab coat pocket.

"How did you know that?" Qadri asks, grateful for his save, but also impressed. She's memorised everyone's coffee order because it saves her time, and it impresses the attendings. She knows that none of her intern colleagues have bothered to do the same. But DeLuca's a senior resident, and it's been a good few years since he was an intern. She's pretty sure he's not being asked to fetch coffee any more.

At her question, DeLuca looks a little awkward, like he's been asked to reveal some sort of secret superpower. His eyes flick over her left shoulder and then back at her. "I just remember it from when I was an intern, I guess."

There's something in the way that he says it that really doesn't sit right, like he doesn't quite believe it himself. And actually, now that Qadri thinks about it, hadn't Helm been saying something the other day about Dr. Grey and Dr. DeLuca? She'd had dismissed it at the time as Helm's unresolved feelings causing her to read into situations that were little more than innocent exchanges. But maybe she's right with this one?

"Sure," she shrugs. "That makes sense."

It doesn't, and she's damn well going to find Helm and get the gossip _immediately_.

\---

The children are in bed, and Meredith had been expecting Andrew to show up at her door several hours ago. But so far, nothing. She knows he was in surgery with Alex when she left the hospital, something quite tricky, but it still should've been done by now. Maybe there were complications? That would explain the silence. He would've let her know he was going to be late otherwise.

She's disappointed that, if that's the case, she likely won't see him tonight - it's probably too late for their planned evening to start now, and he'll probably just head straight home in light of that. Meredith decides to get an early night.

Her phone wakes her up a while later. It's buzzing on her nightstand, the vibrations echoing against the hard surface, loud enough to startle her. Her illuminated alarm clock says it's just a few minutes before midnight.

His name is on her phone screen, calling. It's odd that he's ringing so late, but she picks up regardless.

"Hey," she half whispers, her throat slightly hoarse from sleep.

"Hey," he echoes, and even down the phone line, she can hear something out of character in his voice. It's heavy and lost. "I'm at your door. Can I come in?"

It takes her a moment to register what he means, that he's out there standing on her porch this very second. Usually she'd question this behaviour, but something in his manner stops her.

"Sure," she replies. "Give me a minute."

She pads downstairs and he's there in the porch light. Even from here, she can see that his shoulders look weighted in defeat, and she's beginning to put the picture together of how his evening, his surgery, has gone.

She lets him in and he stands wordlessly in her foyer. She remembers what it feels like to be where he is, for every loss to feel like the bitterest pill to swallow. And it's even harder when it's children. Meredith knows Andrew already struggles with pediatric surgery at the best of times - not because he doesn't have the skill, and not because he isn't good with kids - but because he takes the losses, the moments like these, so much to heart that it breaks her own to see him like this. He's still new enough at this that each unsuccessful surgery is like a physical scar on his own body. And after something like this, she can understand why he doesn't want to be alone.

He doesn't need to say any of this, seems to sense that she already knows - that she's been in his shoes, has felt what he's feeling now. And so when she wraps her arms around his middle, he just falls into her like he's been holding himself up until this moment, and only now he can let go. Her ear is pressed hard against his chest, and she can hear the rapid rhythm of his heartbeat as he tries to ground himself through her.

They stand like this for some minutes, until she feels his breathing even out, and his grip on her loosen a little. His lips press fiercely to her temple and she takes that as a cue to pull back.

"Come to bed," she offers, intertwining his hand with hers and leading him towards the stairs. She doesn't want him to be alone right now either, and she's missed his presence this evening more than she cares to admit.

It takes only minutes for them to slide into her bed, and the fact that they aren't immediately tearing off each other's remaining clothes isn't lost on her. Sure, she knows that their relationship isn't just sex, never has been, but she'd be lying if she said that they hadn't also been enjoying discovering that part as much as their schedules could possibly allow.

But tonight isn't about anything like that - it's about companionship and comfort - and the fact that she wants to provide that, and he wants and needs to receive it from her, is wonderful and brilliant on its own - despite the sad circumstances that have led to it.

He still hasn't said a word since he walked through the door, but she can feel his gratitude as he gathers her up in his arms, her back aligning with the warmth of his bare chest, his arm draped across her middle. She places her arm over his, and squeezes his hand gently. In response she feels his mouth press against her bare shoulder, warm against her cool skin, an acknowledgement of the kindness she's offering.

"Thank you," she hears him murmur quietly in the darkness, voice solemn and tired. Her heart aches for him.

\---

She wakes with her alarm, and she feels him start abruptly next to her from the noise.

"Oh, oh no. I'm sorry," he groans, peering over her to look at the clock on her side of the bed. She rolls towards him and sees he's leaning up on his elbows, wincing as he tries to fully awaken himself, as well as adjusting to the light that's starting to emerge around the edge of her curtains. "I forgot to set my alarm, I'm so sorry. I should've left hours ago."

He's thinking about her kids, their rules, and to be honest, it's sweet. Meredith should be more concerned about it, but for some reason she's not.

"It's okay," she reassures him, placing a hand on his chest to calm him. He thinks he's messed up, and she doesn't want him to apply that guilt too heavily, not after last night. There are still dark circles under his eyes, despite whatever rest he's managed to get. His hair is all over the place, and she kind of loves it, loves how ruffled he is. "What time do you have to be at work?"

He lowers himself back down so he's lying flat, glances over at her. "Not until later. You?"

"Also not until later. Amelia's picking the kids up. But I need to get up and get them ready."

"Should I try and sneak out now?"

She already knows that will be impossible. Zola's an early bird, and so even if the other two are still in bed, she's likely to be downstairs, waiting for the rest of the house to rise. Him trying to avoid her would be a superhuman task unless he fancied his chances of climbing out her second floor window.

Meredith shakes her head against the pillow. "No, it's okay. Just stay here, sleep some more if you want. I'll be back in a bit."

He frowns. "If you're sure." He's been so good about not staying, and she's been so strict about it, that she understands he must be confused by how relaxed she is about this today. But she's realising that, sure, it's not exactly gone to plan, but the end of the world hasn't happened either. And everything else is within her control as long as she gets out of this bed now.

"I'm sure," she reassures him, pressing a kiss to his forehead before rolling out from under the covers.

There are no problems. She makes the children breakfast, and gets them ready for their day. She's a little surprised, because she still expects something to go wrong, so the fact that nothing has is a miracle.

Amelia collects the children and suddenly, Meredith realises as she waves them off, she and Andrew have the house to themselves for a few more hours. It's an unexpected novelty. And one that she plans to enjoy.

\---

Amelia had been feeling pretty proud of herself this morning. She'd washed _and_ dried her hair, collected her dry cleaning, and had still been on time to pick up her nieces and nephew before work without even a hint of drama. Some days things come together, and Amelia was thinking this was one of them.

That was until she realises she'd left her phone at Meredith's that morning. She can even picture exactly where she left it; right on the kitchen counter, next to her empty coffee cup. She'd been checking her messages but had then been distracted by Bailey asking her to tie his shoelaces, and Amelia's a sucker for that kid, for how much he looks like Derek sometimes.

It's not a major problem - she's only in the lab today, not on call for anything, but she still feels uneasy without it. And she's got a spare half hour, so she decides she'll drive back to Meredith's to get it.

It doesn't take long, but as she pulls into the driveway, she notices something. To be fair, she'd noticed it that morning, but had dismissed it out of hand. Because it could be nothing. Probably was nothing.

The thing is, there's a motorcycle parked at the kerbside, and Amelia's never seen it before. To be fair, there's probably some innocent explanation for it - it probably belongs to one of the neighbours, or something like that. But Amelia's got a bit of thing for motorcycles, has been on the back of a fair few in her time, and this one seems familiar, although she can't quite pinpoint why. Either way, it's nice. _Sexy_. If you were into that sort of thing.

So yes, it could be nothing - because it's not like she knows Meredith's neighbours at all, and sometimes parking around these parts can be a nightmare. A random motorcycle is not the craziest thing she's seen this week.

Meredith's car is still in the driveway, and so Amelia assumes she must still be home. She's probably catching a few more hours sleep, a novelty that a single mother of three doesn't get very often, Amelia knows. She admires her sister for her drive and focus, but sometimes she wonders just how she manages to keep it all afloat without buckling under the pressure of being the amazing Meredith Grey.

If she is asleep, Amelia has no intention of waking her. She doesn't want to be responsible for that, and so her plan is to slip in and out again quietly, with Meredith being none of the wiser.

She makes sure her footsteps are soft as she lets herself in the front door. The house is notorious for creaky floorboards, and Amelia's learnt from previously living there, with doctors who sleep at odd hours, and three small children, that peace and quiet is something not to be disturbed if at all possible.

She's treading quietly through the foyer when she suddenly hears Meredith's laugh, ringing out from the kitchen. It's light and melodious, with an underlying playfulness that Amelia's not used to hearing from her sister, not in recent years. Is she on the phone? If so, to who?

Amelia's about to call out - announce her presence - when another laugh follows. A different laugh. A distinctly _male_ laugh. She freezes.

Oh. _Ohhhhh_.

Amelia should definitely _not_ be here right now.

It's gone quiet in the kitchen, quiet enough for Amelia to fill in the blanks. The laughter has a familiarity to it, an intimacy that it doesn't take a genius to read into. Amelia's realising that she needs to retreat without being discovered, but now that the pressure is on, she's panicking about her ability to do so. But she really can't stand here, hesitating awkwardly, hearing things she probably shouldn't be hearing.

There's a loud thud. It's the sound of objects hitting the floor, and Amelia's had enough sex of her own to know that a surface is being cleared, and oh damn, Meredith is about to have sex, with some mysterious man, in her kitchen! The last thing she needs is her sister-in-law overhearing the whole thing. Even if she doesn't know about that part. Not yet, anyway.

Meredith laughs again, and there are murmurings and a low moan that causes Amelia's own heart rate to increase. Her face goes hot.

It suddenly makes sense as to why Maggie's been talking her ear off about something being up with Meredith. And don't get her wrong, Amelia is happy, no, _thrilled_ for Meredith if she's found someone who can make her laugh like that. Amongst other things, clearly. But even with Amelia's awareness that she needs to get out of the house, and _now_ , she's a nosy person by nature.

And really, the most important question is... who is in there with her sister?

Is she back together with Link? That seems unlikely, given that Amelia never really quite understood that whole thing anyway. Sure, Link's a nice enough guy. But to her, he and Meredith never seemed that well suited, the chemistry always felt a little off. In Amelia's eyes, Meredith had never come across as particularly invested, even when they were dating. Amelia had even wondered at the time why Meredith had picked him over DeLuca given that...

Oh, wait. DeLuca.

DeLuca?

 _DeLuca_.

Could that really be Andrew DeLuca in there... with her sister? Because now the more that she's thinking about it, the more it makes perfect sense. And the motorcycle - the damn motorcycle! She feels like an idiot for being so blind, because, of course, of course, _of course_ it was him. That's why the motorcycle had seemed familiar.

Amelia has eyes, knows that he's adored Meredith for far too long even before eventually getting his chance with her. And she remembers the fall out, the awkward interactions at work, where they both pretended everything was fine, but as soon as Meredith's back was turned, DeLuca would look like he was about to crumble into dust. Amelia had had to put up with him moping about on her service for weeks on end and it was painful to watch.

Had they figured things out? And _when did that happen_?

Well, she acknowledges, good for him. And... good for her too, to be fair. DeLuca may have that whole Italian lothario thing going on, but Amelia knows for a fact that he's kind and thoughtful, and a genuinely good guy who would see her sister for the amazing person she is, while at the same time challenge her on her nonsense when it counted.

But all that aside, as happy as she is for them, Amelia still needs to leave the house, because there are just some things that should be private, and this is very much one of them.

As if on cue, an uninhibited moan echoes through the house, followed by a low cry. "Andrew!"

Well, that definitely confirms _that_ then, Amelia thinks, as she takes the opportunity to bolt for the front door. Their preoccupation gives her perfect cover.

Her phone is still on the kitchen counter, but she'll definitely just have to do without it today.

And boy, does she have something to tell Maggie.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He scrunches his face up and lowers his voice to a staged whisper. "Did it ever occur to you that maybe we aren't as interesting to others as we think we are?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took a while, so thank you to everyone for being so patient. This was a bit of a challenge to write, but I'm glad we got there in the end. I wouldn't say I'm totally happy with it, but at some point, we just have to let these things go!
> 
> I think this is the end of the 'erase and rewind' universe fics for now - but if something else strikes me, I may revisit it. 
> 
> A big massive thank you to [KatieWho](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KatieWho/pseuds/KatieWho) as always. She's given me never-ending support throughout pretty much all of my Merluca fics at this point, so I'm super grateful to her, and for her time in being my beta. Also a thank you to [sentichefuoripiove](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sentichefuoripiove/pseuds/sentichefuoripiove) for the encouragement to write. I think peer pressure clearly helps me, ha.

"Can I catch a ride to work with you?" he asks one morning, a hand tracing lazily over the curve of her hip, his body pressed up behind hers. His bed is so comfortable, and his warmth even more so. She's loathe to think about work when they're enveloped here together, but his question forces her brain to think forward to the day ahead, to the mechanics of what he's asking. 

Andrew must sense her breathing hitch, because his next words come out hastily. "My bike's in the shop," he clarifies, and a kiss finds the nape of her neck. Meredith feels herself melt a little. His hand continues its path, trailing down her outer thigh. "I wouldn't ask otherwise. I can just call a cab if it's a problem." 

It's sweet that he's offering. He's so consistent with his thoughtfulness and she'll never not be grateful for it. And despite her initial panic, she reminds herself that he's not asking for the world - just a ride to work, a place she's going to anyway. The thought settles her brain.

"Don't call a cab," she replies, rolling over to face him and being rewarded with the slope of his smile. She places the flat of her hand against his bare chest, and his mouth turns upwards even further. "I'll drive you. _But_... I'm dropping you off before the parking lot, _and_ you'll owe me a coffee later."

He raises an eyebrow, and gives her a smirk. Meredith can tell that he's already figured out her true motive - that her coffee request is just an excuse for her to see him at some point during the day - but he's simply too pleased to tease her about it for once. Instead his arm threads around her back and pulls her flush against him.

She's not sure she'll ever get tired of how his proximity makes her feel, or of how _good_ and _kind_ and unbearably _sexy_ he is, on top of all the other wonderful things she's learning about him. The press of him against her reminds her of the hours they've spent between these sheets, slick and sweaty, or sometimes soft and tender. She feels her heart rate turn erratic in response to the vivid memories, reminds herself of when they were just dreams.

It's like he can somehow read her mind, read where her thoughts are going. His hand brushes up and under the back of her camisole, the fabric no barrier against his slow advance.

"Just a coffee?" he whispers, deep and low, his thumb tracing a path up the middle of her spine, rising up and up and up. He presses his nose against hers, a reverent gesture despite the sensations he's awakening in her. 

"We don't have time," she protests, although there's very little willpower behind it, given how her hands are already betraying her, spreading out across his skin. "We have to get to work."

He hums in the back of his throat, before moving in to kiss her. There's a fire underlying him this morning, and she can sense it in the way his lips seek her own, the way it feels like he's sparking against her. When he's like this, she can't help but burn too. His skin feels like liquid heat under her hands, and as much as she likes to think she has resolve, it's always weakened around him. 

Quickly, he rolls her half on top of him, their legs entangling, and the hard line of his body is doing things to her that she should be accustomed to by now. But there's something about the way he reacts to her touch that still makes her feel like she could do anything, be anything, take on anything. It's that exact feeling that causes her to shrug off any remaining resistance. She moves so she's straddling his lap and takes a moment to look down at him, trapped between her thighs. Slowly and deliberately, her eyes fast on his, Meredith strips off her camisole, and the look on his face makes it all worth it.

"Mere... I'm not complaining, but I thought you didn't want to be late," he questions, voice hoarse, even though he's the one who started this. But his words are perfunctory, nothing more, because he's already reaching out for her, eagerly seeking more contact. 

As she leans down over him, her answer is a sigh against the shell of his ear. "I'll drive fast."

\---

"Is there a hospital carpool programme I don't know about?"

Nico jumps at the sudden interruption, looks up from his stitches. They're uniform and perfect, but he likes to think that the extra practice won't hurt. Levi slides into the seat opposite him, munching on what looks to be a banana muffin. Nico's stomach rumbles.

"Hello to you too."

Levi rolls his eyes, before falling into a grin. "Yes. Hello. But seriously, do we have a carpool programme?"

Nico's confused. "Why do you ask?" 

Levi props his chin on one hand and focuses those big doe eyes on him. "Because I just saw Dr. Grey and Dr. DeLuca arrive together in her car, that's all. So I assume they must carpool, right?"

Nico gives his boyfriend a fond look. One of the things he loves about Levi is his naive innocence, but even this is going a bit too far.

"Really?" Nico feels one of his eyebrows rise. "You think they're carpooling?" Just by sheer randomness of events, Nico knows for a fact that Dr. Grey and Dr. DeLuca don't live in the same area of town. 

Levi's expression turns into one of puzzlement. "Why wouldn't they be carpooling?" A beat. "Wait. Are you saying they _aren't_ carpooling?"

Nico chuckles, putting down his instruments and peeling off his surgical gloves. It's become increasingly clear he isn't going to get any more practice in this morning before his shift starts. "Have you not heard what people have been saying about them?"

Levi lights up, his eyes somehow getting even bigger, which Nico wasn't sure was possible.

Nico's not one to put a lot of stock in rumours - and he's seen nothing to verify any of them for himself. But he's heard the murmurs amongst a fair few of the attendings, the rumble of suspicion and speculation, the swapping of observations and events. By all accounts, from what he knows, the evidence has been mounting up in a pretty substantial way that Dr. Grey and Dr. DeLuca have been conducting some sort of secret affair.

Only, well, maybe not as secret as they think.

That said, Nico's not sure he wants to add to the gossip any further, even with Levi. He doesn't know how much Link has heard, or knows, about the situation. And so although he seems to have bounced back from the break up with Dr. Grey, Nico feels like he should have Link's back above everything else.

But he can't give Levi nothing, because if he knows anything about his boyfriend, it's that he doesn't like to be kept out of the loop. 

"Look, all I'll say is that Dr. Pierce and Dr. Shepherd seem pretty convinced, and... as far as I know, the hospital _doesn't_ have a carpool programme."

It's not a lot, but Levi leans back in his chair looking thoughtful. Nico can see the wheels turning. And he has no doubt that Levi will now make it is his mission to track down the truth, starting with consulting his fellow interns. And if they don't know, then it isn't worth knowing.

\---

She hasn't been expecting to see much of him around the hospital this week, given he's been put on Alex's service, and she's been holed up in her lab. 

So it's a surprise when she bursts into Teddy's OR and spots Andrew there. His broad back, even in a scrub gown, is immediately familiar to her. She's thankful for the mask she's holding to her face if only to cover the smile that's already crept onto her features. And even though the bottom half of his face is obscured, as he turns and sees her, there's obvious delight in his expression. His posture straightens further, and Meredith has to bite her lip and not think about all the ways she knows his muscles move under his skin, how firm they feel under her fingers. 

"You paged?" She directs her question to Teddy, back to the job at hand. She doesn't need to be distracted by the dark haired resident standing quietly just feet away, staring at her with a hungry look.

"Dr. Grey. I might need you to scrub in," Teddy's saying, her hands already busy exploring an open body cavity and her brow furrowed in concentration. She starts rattling off the patient's stats, but only gets halfway through before an alarm sounds. "Damn it!" Meredith can see Andrew's frantically packing, and so she makes the call herself.

"Looks like you need me. Give me a minute."

It's a few hours of intense work, and Meredith's feet are already throbbing. She's not sure how Teddy's doing it, given her stage of pregnancy. Meredith can still recall the pain of swollen ankles, and how much her back used to ache when she was pregnant with Bailey. And so she has nothing but admiration for how well Teddy seems to be coping. 

It's hard for her to avoid catching Andrew's eye across the table occasionally, even though for the most part their focus has been on the patient and getting him stable. But now that things are back under control, she can feel his attention on her, and rather than ignoring it, she can't help but meet his gaze now and then. It might be because she can only see his eyes above the mask, but if anything, it makes his focus on her feel even more intense, even more powerful than usual. He has beautiful eyes, dark and sharp, and it's hard for her not to get momentarily lost in them. 

Thinking about it, it's the way he tends to look at her that has always turned her on most, she thinks. It's sometimes easy to forget that, because he has that face and that confidence, as well as a tongue that is equally talented in both English and Italian - as well as when it's not being used to form words. And Meredith would be lying if she said that his body still wasn't one of the most insane things she's ever seen. 

But really, it's always his eyes that undo her the most. Because they manage to somehow communicate so much more than he ever seems to say, even though he's definitely not shy about that either. 

The fact is that Meredith can do the rest of this procedure in her sleep - he probably could too, should she choose to hand it off - but she finds herself wanting to stay, to be in the same room together for a bit longer. Sure, they can't talk freely, but she doesn't need them to. The proximity is enough.

She bites her lip to stop herself from smiling. She's self aware enough to know how ridiculous she's being, and how unlike her this is. But despite her attempts at curbing herself, he somehow seems to sense any small shift in her. Meredith feels the heat of his gaze on her again. It's a memento of those secret hours in the darkness of a shared bed, of the fire that rises up within them both. It's a reminder of the urgency, the fierce need between them. She tries to shake the thoughts from her brain.

Thankfully Teddy breaks the silence.

"Have either of you been to that new restaurant that's just opened on the lakefront? Tom and I are thinking of going." 

"Yes, I-" she says.

"Yeah, it's-" he starts.

Their heads snap upwards in unison, their eyes locking together. It's a bit too sharpish to not be suspicious. Teddy looks back and forth between them.

"You've both been? Cool... uh, together?"

There's a loaded pause, and Meredith swears she hears Andrew audibly swallow, even above the sounds of all the machines. Her own blood rushing to her ears. She takes a sharp breath and decides to take control of this situation. 

So she laughs. It's meant to sound breezy and casual, but if anything, it's a little manic. She hopes Teddy doesn't notice her discomfort. 

"Together? What? That's ridiculous. No! Definitely not. _No._ I... I went with an old friend from med school who was in town," Meredith grinds out, already knowing that she's acting too weirdly to make her response sound entirely normal. Once again, she can feel Andrew staring at her, his eyebrows now a cross between quizzical and bemused. She resumes her focus downwards and curses inwardly. She should have left while she had the chance, but she now can't without it seeming even more suspect.

"Oh, that's nice," Teddy responds cheerily, a touch too upbeat, as if to mask the awkwardness that's draped itself over them. "How was it?"

Meredith fumbles for an answer. She used to be so much better at thinking on her feet in these sorts of situations. "It was good." The simpler the better, she decides.

"Just good?" His voice interjects, and judging by the edge in his tone, she knows he's only speaking up to make a point. He has a chance to stay quiet, but of course he isn't taking it. She risks a glance in his direction and narrows her eyes, but it has no effect. He's clearly revelling in her discomfort if only to pay her back for her forceful denial that they went together. To be fair, she did say the idea was _ridiculous_ , and that probably wasn't necessary. 

She pointedly doesn't respond, but he continues in lieu of her answer anyway.

"I thought it was better than _good_ ," he elaborates, lacing the last word with a touch of disdain. "Great food, great atmosphere, very... romantic. Very... entertaining."

Her mind flashes back to their escape through the kitchen, the absurdity of it all, how much they joked about it afterwards. She knows what he's getting at, and he's clearly trying to get under her skin. Because even though their secret is safe, he likes to play the game. And underneath it all, while she pretends to be annoyed, he knows she likes it too. Their little barbs are never intended to wound each other, and if anything, they make the rewards more satisfying.

Teddy looks at him in confusion. "Entertaining? You mean, like a band, or live music, or something?" Meredith can't tell if she's being obtuse, or just playing dumb.

He takes a moment to stretch out his neck, as if to buy himself some time. She can see him realising that he's probably put himself in a position that he can't easily retreat from. "No, just the... company," he eventually answers, quite lamely. Teddy tilts her head towards him.

" _Oh_. Were you with someone... _special_ , DeLuca?" Now she's teasing him, and for once, Meredith likes how the tables have turned. She thinks she might even be enjoying the show. He's so good at teasing her that it's almost a privilege to watch him being on the receiving end. It's giving her more pleasure than it should to see him squirm. Plus there's the obvious benefit that it deflects any attention away from herself. 

Meredith also knows that Andrew's a terrible liar. He just isn't good at it, and doesn't care much for it. So even with the surgical mask over his mouth, she can see his jaw working overtime to try and formulate an answer that both satisfies Teddy, doesn't offend his girlfriend, and also doesn't lead to any further questions about his relationship status. 

But Meredith, despite his evident discomfort, can't help herself. She chimes in. "Yes, Dr. DeLuca. Do tell. Who is this special someone who offers such... romantic and entertaining company?"

On reflection, and if she's honest, she's probably being a bit unfair. After all, she's the one forcing silence about their relationship on him, and yet here she is, also backing him into a corner. So Meredith won't say he's shooting daggers at her, but it's pretty close. Nevertheless, she knows he'll forgive her, if he hasn't already. She can easily make sure of that, and then and there, makes a mental note to make it up to him later.

"Are you pleading the fifth, DeLuca?" Teddy jokes, and even from where she's standing, Meredith can see the tips of Andrew's ears turning bright red. It's adorable, and it's almost enough for her to want to put him out of his misery.

Almost.

\---

Well, that was awkward. And kind of hilarious.

But Teddy had had a long shift. The baby had been using her as a punching bag all day, and the surgery had been more complicated than she had hoped. She had needed something to distract her.

Her question about the restaurant had been innocent enough. Tom had mentioned it in passing last night, and really, she was just trying to make conversation to kill the time and keep her mind off her aching feet.

But then things had taken a turn. Because yes, Teddy had heard what the other attendings have been saying about DeLuca and Grey. She wasn't sure whether she had necessarily believed it, because it did seem a bit out of left field - and the hospital staff were known for creating gossip out of thin air sometimes. She's pretty sure she'd heard a number of rumours about the paternity of her baby that were far more insane than the actual truth.

However, the second they had both started to answer her question, it had become blatantly obvious that there was some truth to the rumours. Because something in that room had shifted. Teddy found herself a bystander to a conversation taking place through eye contact alone. There was a softness, an intimacy to their pointed, almost jagged, interactions that could only have come from two people who know each other very well, and know what buttons to push for a reaction. Certainly, more than two people who simply just worked together.

And so Teddy couldn't help but play along, and watch the result.

Meredith Grey left him fumbling, that's for sure. And that was a sight to behold. Because Teddy liked DeLuca. He was calm and focused in high pressure situations. She was always pleased when he was assigned to her service. But in that OR, he had been a mess under Dr. Grey's questioning, her teasing. And in any other circumstance, Teddy may have just assumed he was intimidated by her - she was a hospital board member after all, and his boss - or even that he might have had a crush on her. 

But the fact that Meredith Grey, as inscrutable as she usually was, shone in his presence, was something Teddy couldn't ignore. She knows that woman had been through heartbreak after heartbreak, loss after loss, and it had hardened her. Yes, it had made her strong, in her own impressive way, but it had also made her cold. Cold to love, at least.

However in those moments, she was a woman that Teddy hadn't seen in a long time. She seemed happy, calm. _Light_ , even. 

And from there on out, it had only become more apparent. Every exchange between them solidified the rumours. By the end of the hour, Teddy was grateful to leave DeLuca to close, if only to escape the bickering-turned-flirting that had eventuated from their interactions. Unsurprisingly, Dr. Grey made no move to leave with her, even though her presence in that OR had not been necessary for some time now. 

Was this really supposed to be a secret? Teddy can't help but wonder, if only for the fact that they were so _obvious_ , blindingly so. Even now, through the glass she could hear their laughter, the murmurs of two people who were unable to help broadcasting their fondness for each other.

Her baby kicks, and her bladder reminds her that she's far too pregnant to be sitting around thinking about this. Still, it had been a welcome distraction for a few hours.

\---

_When are you next free?_ she texts him, as she steps out of the attending's lounge, bag over her shoulder. They've not seen each other these past few days, and it's getting to her. 

He's been absent recently, and although she knows it isn't intentional, a little niggle is always there in the back of her brain. Because Meredith feels like she's waiting for something terrible to happen. She knows that's just how her mind works, how she anticipates the bad to follow the good. And Andrew is so good that it feels inevitable to her that something will throw them off course.

The truth is that he isn't avoiding her. He's just busy in the way that senior residents often are. Even though it was forever ago for her, she hasn't forgotten the way she used to come home so tired that her body felt boneless, and then she'd still have to find time to study, and take care of Zola, and keep her head above water. So she knows that all those late nights and early mornings when he has to sneak out of her house aren't easy on him, even if he never ever once complains.

That said, she's selfish. Now that she has found her happy, she wants to keep it close - if only to make the most of it in case it all falls apart. Meredith's trying to not be too pessimistic, but it's not in her nature to be all sunshine and rainbows by default. Somehow Andrew's presence seems to squash most of those fears down, but it's hard to take advantage of his positivity when he's not around.

As she waits for the elevator, her phone dings in response. _I don't know. I've got to cover the ICU tonight. Sorry. I'll let you know._

She feels her heart sink. It is what it is, even if she doesn't like it. 

She steps onto the elevator, tucking her phone back in her bag. It's fine, she's fine. She misses him, but she'll survive. She'll have a great evening with her kids, and there's always tomorrow, she thinks. She hopes.

The silence around her feels stifling, and she sighs. She shouldn't feel disheartened, and yet she does. And keeping their relationship quiet has been becoming less and less appealing with every passing day. That's something she has to reflect on - maybe tonight she'll have the time.

The elevator stops unexpectedly at the next floor, and she's about to huff in frustration at the delay to her journey, but it's him. It's _him_.

The smile he gives her is something she might take to her grave, and she's pretty sure her heart just slammed into the front of her chest at the sight of him. He doesn't say anything, just steps across the threshold. His phone is still in his grasp, fresh from just texting her she assumes, and Meredith notes the smooth motion of his hand as he slides it into the pocket of his scrubs. His lab coat is nowhere to be seen, and so she can only assume he's just scrubbed out of some surgery or another. Either way, she's not complaining. The sight of his broad shoulders and bare forearms does things to her insides that she'd rather not dwell on right now.

"Hey you," he murmurs, as the doors slide shut behind him. He doesn't even press a button for a floor, so she can only assume he's going to the lobby too, either that or he just doesn't care. By the look on his face, it might be the latter.

"Hey," she echoes, feeling unoriginal but not sure she can formulate much more. Her mouth feels suddenly dry. Will it ever not feel this way when she's with him? Will she ever be able to not want him this badly?

It only takes a moment, it's so fast. But one second she's standing there staring, and the next second he's on her, mouth pressing to hers fiercely, urgently. She's propelled backwards, her feet barely able to keep from tripping over themselves. Her back hits the elevator wall, and he's against her front, a solid warm weight that sets her alight. She lets out a little whimper of surprise before surrendering to it, to the way that he clearly seems to have been needing her just as much as she's been needing him.

There's an assertiveness, a hungry confidence, to his movements. His hand snakes up her neck, cupping her face. It's gentle, but still with a hint of roughness that he knows she likes. She can feel his thumb pressed against her cheekbone, and it is that little detail that makes her grasp hard at him. Her own hands thread roughly into his hair, tugging, using the position to force his mouth closer, if that's even possible. He lets out a sharp punctuated groan at her motions, and she takes the opportunity for her tongue to chase at his. She feels like she's drowning in him, and she wishes more than anything that this wasn't what it was - a moment of desperate madness - brought about by lust and desire and the knowledge that this is all the time they'll have for now.

But in this minute, she'll take what she can get, even if they have, at most, only seconds left before the elevator reaches its destination and forces them apart. She wants to tell him she's missed him today, will miss him tonight, but the feeling of his teeth grazing her bottom lip seems far more important, a message her body far prefers to receive than tearing itself away from his attentions. She nips back at him, and she can feel his grin against her mouth, the way his other hand tucks up and into the small of her back, pressing her hips even closer to his. Meredith can't stop herself, she lets out a helpless sigh at the sensation, and it is just at that moment they hear the ding of the elevator, announcing the floor.

He pulls quickly away, his hands suddenly back by his sides as if they had never left. Her body is overloaded, tingling from the adrenaline, heart pounding from what just happened. She draws a deep breath into her lungs to try and steady herself and lets it out slowly. Meredith doesn't even need to look at him to know he'll be longingly staring at her, and yet she can't help but look anyway. But instead of what she expects, his eyes are focused on the floor. She follows his eyeline.

"Oh damn it," she mutters, as the doors open behind him. Her bag must have fallen off her shoulder in the heat of things, because it's lying open at his feet with half a dozen objects spilling out. She hadn't even noticed she'd dropped it.

She crouches down and starts scooping everything up, and he does the same. 

"Sorry," Andrew murmurs, as he passes her a tube of lipstick and her phone. She stuffs the items back in her bag. He doesn't sound sorry at all, and one glance at his face only confirms her suspicions. She tries not to focus on the way he's looking at her through his lashes, gaze lustful and heavy. It's an expression full of regret that they were interrupted more than anything else.

"Are you alright, Mere?" 

A voice pulls her away from the look in Andrew's eyes, thankfully breaking the spell, reminding her that they aren't alone anymore. Jackson's standing there, using one hand to stop the elevator doors from closing again, and part of her almost wants to tell him to just let them close - let her and Andrew head all the way up to the roof and continue what they started in private.

But thankfully her common sense hasn't abandoned her completely yet.

She smiles, nods her head. "Just dropped my things, that's all," she replies curtly, straightening up and throwing a few pens and a packet of tissues into her bag. 

Andrew offers her a set of keys, her house keys, that he's picked up. She tries not to take it as a sign of something prophetic. "Thank you, Dr. DeLuca." 

Meredith's trying to make it sound like she's thanking him for helping pick up her life off the floor of the elevator, instead of thanking him for kissing her senseless just moments earlier. She's not sure she's succeeded, if only for the fact that she can see a twitch of laughter hovering at the corner of Andrew's mouth. 

He could say nothing, but of course he doesn't. "You're welcome, Dr. Grey," he answers smoothly, even if the expression in his eyes tells her that when they do see each other again, he's planning to express just how welcome she is. She tries to ignore the blush that she knows is already rising on her cheeks.

"Well," she asserts firmly, trying to extract herself from this situation even though the idea of walking away from him right now seems barely possible, like her limbs are partially made of jelly. "I'll see you both tomorrow. Dr. DeLuca. Jackson." 

She hopes, as she walks away, that he'll at least notices the twist of her hips, the sway of her hair down her back. If she's going to feel tortured this evening, the least she can do is make sure he feels it too.

\---

Jackson observes DeLuca, standing in the middle of elevator. He's watching Dr. Grey walk away. There's a look of hunger in the young man's eyes that can't be mistaken. 

He risks a glance over his shoulder at Meredith as she makes her way across the lobby. There's a swing in her step that's new, almost like she knows she's got an audience. It's an unfamiliar sight on her, Jackson has to admit, but the bounce in her stride is one he's happy to see nevertheless. She's been more upbeat lately, easier to smile, easier to laugh.

Maggie's told him why, of course. And although Jackson's glad that the weeks and weeks of listening to her and Amelia speculate about it are over, he's now privy to certain details about Meredith's sex life that he just never needed or wanted to know. 

He shrugs as if to try and shake the information off and as he turns back he finds DeLuca still in mid-stare. 

After a moment, DeLuca catches his eye, and has the good grace to look a little sheepish at being caught out.

"She seems... happy?" Jackson offers as almost a platitude, as if to reassure DeLuca that he's not judging him for admiring someone as impressive as Meredith Grey. But besides that, Jackson doesn't feel it's his place to comment any further. There are some boundaries that he isn't willing to cross, and sharing confidences with the resident who is sleeping with his friend is just a step too far.

DeLuca stifles a small chuckle, an odd reaction, but Jackson lets it slide. He supposes that Andrew doesn't realise that he knows, and so perhaps the younger man is enjoying what he thinks is private knowledge. "Yes, I suppose so," he eventually smiles, and his gaze drifts off again, even though she must be well out of sight by now.

Jackson steps in and presses the button for the fourth floor. "Are you... getting out here?" Jackson is aware that DeLuca and Meredith had clearly arrived at the ground floor together but for some reason Andrew is still standing stock still in the middle of the elevator.

DeLuca's mouth gapes open and closed like a fish out of water for a moment, before shoving his hands deep into the pockets of his scrubs. "No, I, uh... must have missed my floor."

No kidding, Jackson thinks. 

\---

She runs into him at the nurse's station, hunched over some paperwork. He looks annoyed. His brow is so creased in concentration that she almost doesn't want to interrupt him. 

But it is too late anyway, he sees her before she can make up her mind as to whether to stay or go. A grin instantly breaks over his features, and it's like a cloud has lifted.

"You okay?" she queries, cocking her head to one side. 

He quickly frowns again. "Yes. Why?"

She giggles at his reaction. "Nothing. You just looked like you were a bit preoccupied." She crosses her arms, and uses them to lean on the high counter beside him. It makes a change for her to be able to look down on him, if only for the reason that he's sitting. His hair is particularly dishevelled today, like he's been running his hands through it. Her fingers twitch a little at the memory of the softness of his curls, and so she clenches them into fists to restrain herself.

The frown dissipates once more, and he's back again, looking slyly at her. "Well, I'm not now. Maybe you could occupy me?" There's no missing the suggestive undertone. He's not always very subtle.

"Shhh!" she hisses, even though she's laughing as she says it. There's a few people milling around, so it's not likely that anyone is paying any attention to them anyway.

"No one can hear us," he points out, rolling his chair a touch closer so that his foot can nudge her own. It's a stupid little thing really, like compensation for the fact that they can't really touch while they are at work, out in open like this. But the fact that he's still trying to be near her is small treat on its own.

"You don't know that," she retorts, even though she has been getting beyond the point of caring recently and that in itself is something that's been on her mind a lot lately. She wants to talk to him about it, has been planning to, but given it feels like they've been snatching time together recently, the time that they do have feels too precious for anything so serious. 

He scrunches his face up and lowers his voice to a staged whisper. "Did it ever occur to you that maybe we aren't as interesting to others as we think we are?" 

Andrew's mocking, of course. He can't help himself. But she can't help but think that maybe he's right. They've been making a big fuss over this secret when actually everyone is probably too wrapped up in their own lives to have noticed anything at all, let alone care. Maybe her ego had just run away with her when she had thought the details of her life would be of interest to anyone else.

Her silence must jar him, because he nudges her foot again with his own. "I'm joking, Mere. Maybe we are absolutely the talk of the hospital and everyone is just so good at playing along."

"Stop it," she grins, and her hand automatically goes out to flick him on the shoulder before she can stop herself. It's an innocent gesture, but one that still speaks volumes. She quickly snaps her arm back and glares at him.

He rolls his eyes good-naturedly, and leans back in his chair. "So... I was wondering... what did you want to do for your birthday next week?"

She narrows her eyes suspiciously. "How did you know it was my birthday?" She doesn't remember telling him. It hadn't come up. Besides, she's not really much of a birthday person. She's usually quite content to go to work, leave on time, and spend the evening with her kids. Or at least, that's what she's done every year since Derek died, and it had never crossed her mind to do anything else with anyone else. But now she has a someone else, someone who might actually want to spend that time with her, and it is a nice surprise, if she's honest.

"Your sisters were talking about it the other day. Apparently, they're throwing you a surprise party," he raises his eyebrows at her, wide eyed, and waits for her reaction.

He's not wrong to think that she'd be taken aback at that news. It's not that Maggie and Amelia haven't tried to make an effort in previous years - more just that she's rebuffed them time after time and they'd given in on each occasion. Clearly she's run out of luck.

But thinking about it, the idea doesn't bother her as much as it may have done twelve months ago. Maybe all those rough edges that she always felt she had since she lost Derek have worn away just enough. Maybe there's a reason for that.

So she laughs again, because there is no other reaction to have. "Did they also not tell you that surprise parties are supposed to be a surprise?"

He shrugs casually, before tilting his face up to study hers. "I had a hunch that you'd probably appreciate a heads up. Was I wrong?"

Of course he's not wrong. She loves her sisters, but this is something she'd much rather be forewarned about, and Andrew seems to have figured that out about her already, even after just a few short months of being in her life. She's not quite sure how he's acquired the skill so quickly.

"Well, did they at least invite you?" She's not sure she can face the idea of a surprise party without his reassuring face somewhere in the crowd.

He practically has to smother an undignified snort. "It's more like who _haven't_ they invited, at this point, I think. I mean, they even invited that radiologist from the second floor that you don't even like. _And_ all the interns."

"Stop!" she protests again, because the situation coupled with his comments is making her laugh more than it should. 

He's giving her this look, and it's so tender and warm and she's not quite sure where it's come from all of a sudden. One moment he's laughing with her, and the next he looks like he wants to pull her onto his lap, and if he continues to look at her like that, she's not entirely sure she wouldn't let him if he tried. It's clearly time for her to regrettably retreat before she does something stupid.

But her mouth has other ideas. "What?" she questions, knowing full well that she's staring at him through her lashes as she says it. His eyes soften even further in response.

He tilts his head, in that same way he always does. His tongue runs a quick trail along his bottom lip, and although it's just an involuntary motion on his part, it distracts her far more than it should. He blinks once, the corners of his mouth curving upwards. "You just seem so... happy."

She's amused that he's been so struck by that - because surely he must know that he's the reason, the cause. Sure, her children and her family make her happy, that's a given. Even her job makes her happy. But he's been an awakening that she never expected, and every day he somehow manages to amaze her even more. So yes, he's undoubtedly the catalyst for why she finds herself in a good mood more often than not these days. 

"Funny that," she replies coyly, because somehow telling him the truth - that it's him, truly _him_ that has made all the difference - feels a little too big to confess to right now, right in the middle of their working day. 

But it's something she wants to tell him soon.

\---

"Do we tell them that we know?" Bailey wonders out loud as she leans against the surgical board, scrub cap still on, and marker pen in hand. She glances upwards at her colleague.

"Who?" Richard fumbles, and Bailey realises she's caught him off guard. She nods her head subtly in DeLuca and Grey's direction, and even from here their body language is more obvious than a screaming siren. Good lord, are they playing footsie at the nurse's station?

Richard follows her gesture, and blinks slowly. Even though he's known for a while, Bailey's aware this must still be strange for him. She doesn't pretend to understand the full extent of his and Meredith's complicated yet familial relationship. But she knows enough to tell that he's probably feeling a bit like a father on the night of the school dance, watching his daughter run off with the far too handsome prom king.

"I don't know," Richard answers after a moment or two of silent contemplation. "Don't you think that if they wanted us to know, they would have just told us?"

"Oh _please_ ," Bailey huffs, throwing her hands up in resignation. "They're basically canoodling. At work. In front of _everyone_. I've seen teenagers with more restraint. They're practically telling us right now by the way they're behaving."

"The way who's behaving?" Maggie interrupts, appearing spontaneously at Bailey's side. She's nursing a giant cup of coffee in one hand, and looks slightly frazzled.

"Grey and DeLuca," Bailey fills her in, gesturing once again with her eyes at the couple, who appear to be completely oblivious to everyone else around them. There seems to be a lot of laughter, and a lot of flirtatious staring, and Bailey almost wants to take a shower just from watching. 

"Ohhhh," Maggie nods vigorously with understanding. "I tried to get the dirt. And I got _nowhere_ with Meredith. But it's definitely happening. Amelia can vouch for that, although - trust me - you do _not_ want to know how she knows that." With that, Maggie's face curls up in a cringe, and the implication is all too clear.

" _Dr. Pierce_! I do not need to know the sordid details, thank you very much! Besides, don't you have better things to be doing than standing around and gossiping?"

"Shouldn't I ask the same of you, Dr. Bailey?" Richard's voice sternly reprimands her, giving her that thousand yard stare that she still feels uncomfortable under sometimes. 

But this time Bailey waves her hand at him, and rewards him with a stare back. "Oh hush. Don't pretend you haven't been gossiping too. Because I know you have been."

Richard at least has the grace to acknowledge the truth with a nod of his head.

"What are we talking about?" Amelia stops in her tracks in front of Bailey, shoes squeaking on the floor. The brunette squints suspiciously at the gathered group. "Are we comparing insane rumours that we've heard about Teddy's baby again? Because I heard a great one yesterday." She's trying for light-hearted but Bailey senses the hurt underneath. In this case, Bailey's more than willing to steer the conversation back to the matter at hand.

"Move, move," she grumbles, pushing Amelia to one side. "You're blocking the view."

Amelia pivots on the spot, so she's facing the same direction as everyone else. "Oh. _That_."

Bailey holds up a palm. "And no, this is not an invitation for you to share what you saw. Some things should remain _private_." 

"Believe me, I wish it _had_ remained private," Amelia mutters. "There are just some things you can't unhear." 

Bailey lets out an amused scoff before trying to disguise it as a cough.

Maggie sighs and addresses the group in a serious tone. "Look, I think she'll tell us when she's ready. This is a big deal for her, you know. And she seems... happy. Really happy. And we want that for her, right?"

A silence falls over them, because, they all have to accept that Maggie's right. God knows, Meredith Grey needs some happiness, Bailey thinks.

\---

_I'll see you there_ , he texts her, as she flops down heavily on the couch in the attending's lounge to wait for her sisters. It's the night of the party that she's not meant to know anything about. Maggie and Amelia have said they're just taking her to Joe's for a few drinks to celebrate her birthday. They'd even arranged a babysitter so that she had no choice but to accept. Their enthusiastic insistence made more sense given what she now knows about their plans, but she still feels a bit apprehensive about the whole thing. 

But it was too late now, she thinks, as she puts away her phone and stares at the ceiling. Deep down, she knows she's wishing that Andrew could walk in with her, if only for the comfort of holding his hand and feeling the weight of its reassurance in her own. And she's surprised but pleased to realise that the thought of doing that, of letting that knowledge out, doesn't scare her at all, not in the way it had a few months ago. 

Meredith's been thinking about it a lot lately: the secret of her and Andrew, of what they are, of what they are going to be. And she doesn't regret the choice she made, to give them time to grow and learn each other without the intense scrutiny of everyone they know. It's been wonderful and precious and something that she desperately needed. But Meredith's found herself missing her sisters, missing being able to share with them how he makes her feel and how that scares her sometimes. The whole situation is so new and out of her comfort zone that perhaps having them there to confide in may have left her feeling slightly less adrift at times.

Besides, she hates lying to them - hates having to pretend that she's working late, when she's actually curled up on Andrew's couch with him. She also hates not being able to speak to him in public without tempering her reactions and behaviour. Sure, going public will open up a whole other set of challenges, she knows. Meredith hasn't been the source of gossip in a long time, and she senses that this news will keep the hospital grapevine busy for a long while once word gets out. 

But, in truth, she thinks she's finally ready for that now. 

She still hasn't had time to tell Andrew what she's decided. The last week has been too hectic, and any time he has had free has been only to crawl into her bed and then out again a few hours later, hardly rested before he has to be back at work. 

She'll tell him after the party, she thinks, as she hears the sound of Maggie and Amelia's chatter coming down the corridor. But right now, she just needs to get through the evening.

\---

"Surprise!" 

There's shouting and laughing and streamers and even balloons, and despite her apprehension, she finds herself beaming. It's hard not to when she's surrounded by all the amazing people in her life, and when Maggie's already pressing a large glass of merlot into her open palm.

There's even a happy birthday banner, strung out across the bar. It looks familiar, and then Meredith realises that it's the same one that she bought for Bailey's birthday party a few months ago. Clearly her sisters have been raiding her supplies, and the thought amuses her.

Looking around, she thinks of all the time she's spent in this bar. Hours and hours with people she's loved and still loves, and people she's lost and that are still lost. But the memories here don't feel tainted. It's more like they are just moments in time that have somehow crystallised so that they can't be ruined or broken - they're just part of her, much like her scars and her genetic code.

Nowadays, she passes over the tequila more often than not for something more subdued. But nevertheless, despite the things that have happened to her, she still seeks the same connections, the same happiness. She just looks in different places now. 

After a few minutes of back slaps and hugs, she has a moment to let her eyes scan the room, but she doesn't see him. He must be running late, and that's okay. She knows he has post-ops to do, and he doesn't have the same luxury that the attendings do of just handing them off. But he promised he'd be here, and she knows he doesn't break his promises. 

An hour goes by in a whirlwind, and after a few glasses of wine, she's feeling calm and joyful. Maggie's making sure her glass is never empty, and the interns that have arrived have started a darts tournament that is getting rowdier by the minute.

But Andrew's still not here, and even though she knows she won't be able to spend the evening by his side, his absence feels like a cloud. She's about to type out a message on her phone when a text comes through from him. 

_I'm on my way. Come meet me outside for a minute?_

Glancing around, she takes stock. She doesn't think anyone will miss her if she ducks away for a moment. She hands Jo her glass, making an excuse about visiting the ladies room, and sneakily heads up the stairs and out of the bar. It's already quite dark outside, but there's still a glimmer of twilight left, and as she steps further out onto the street, she sees his figure rushing towards her.

It's always an adjustment for her, even now, to see him in normal clothes, rather than his lab coat and scrubs. It's not a complaint by any means, given he looks equally appealing in either. But there's just something about him outside the hospital, in the day to day, that captures her imagination even more than usual. She can't help but appraise him as he approaches. 

He's grinning in such a manner that she can tell he's noticed the way she's looking at him, and that he doesn't mind. His general lack of vanity still kind of amazes her, given how he looks and how people react to him sometimes. 

He doesn't hesitate as he reaches her, taking her hand in his immediately and giving it a squeeze of apology. "Sorry, I got held up. Are you having a nice time?"

She searches her brain for the answer, and finds that yes, she actually is having a nice time - despite her initial reservations about the whole thing. She nods her response, and tilts her face up, looks into his eyes. In the fresh air she feels a bit tipsier than she did a few minutes ago, and takes a moment to lean on his arm.

"Good," he acknowledges, and gives her hand another squeeze. She feels quite calm and quite mellow, and it's a nice sensation - one she doesn't get to appreciate much these days, with all the pieces that make up her life. "I just wanted to say hello to you properly before I came in."

"Properly?" Her eyebrows raise, a coy smile appearing on her features.

"Mere," he says, and his voice turns low in the way that she loves, "you're asking me to be in the same room as you all night, when you look like that, and not touch you, _or_ kiss you. I only have so much restraint." His eyes somehow still shine in the low light, and a wave of desire rolls through her at his words. He can't seem to help himself, she thinks, in the way that he says these things. She's still not sure how he gets away with it, seeing as it would sound ridiculous out of the mouth of any other man.

It's also left her a bit speechless, but somehow she manages to squeak out a quiet "oh", before he leans into her space. But for once, he doesn't kiss her, just hovers there, staring, his eyes searching her own, like he's waiting for her to say something more.

"Or shall we go inside?" he asks quietly, his breath ghosting softly over her cheek, his nose almost touching her skin. She knows the shiver that runs through her is not from the coolness of the night air.

She huffs, like she's exasperated, but they both know it's only for show. "Shut up and kiss me already, Andrew," she instructs, her own hand threading into the hair at the nape of his neck. It's all she needs to say before his lips soundly meet her own, open and searching and her back arches instinctively, her body pressing itself along the length of his. 

They both know this will have to be enough, or at least, enough for tonight. No doubt Maggie and Amelia will stick by her side, stay at her place tonight, and so there will be no more chances like this, no more moments of being hidden in plain sight. The thought makes her ache in a way that she hasn't before. Because she's finally had her fill of saying goodbye to him all the time, sick of pretending that he's nothing to her when in fact he's becoming everything.

He retreats from the kiss, but even then, his forehead remains against hers, like he can't quite bear to separate from her completely. "You should go back in," he murmurs with heavy reluctance, and she's sure if he suggests that they leave right now, she wouldn't even hesitate. He won't, of course, because he knows this night is important. His fingers brush a strand of her hair gently back behind her ear. She hears herself exhale softly at the sensation.

He's right, she should. She'll be missed and although giving up her secret has been at the forefront of her mind quite often recently, she's not sure that being caught making out in the dark in front of the bar is quite how she wants to announce this to her friends and colleagues. 

"Okay," she whispers back, and this time she's the one who squeezes his hand before releasing it. "I'll see you in a minute." She waits until he nods in response before turning away and heading back inside.

She runs immediately into Jo, who looks a bit frantic. "Hey, there you are! Amelia's looking for you!" Before she knows it, Meredith is grabbed her by the crook of her elbow and Jo is towing her through the crowd to her sister. 

Amelia looks over at her with relief. "Thank god. I thought you'd just skipped quietly out on your own party." Meredith feels her glass of wine being placed back into her hand, and out of the corner of her eye she sees Andrew quietly make his arrival. In the light of the bar, she can better appreciate the fit his leather jacket over his shoulders, before quickly glancing away.

She loses track of everything for a while. There's people and stories, and anecdotes and laughter - and she's feeling decidedly on her way to drunk-ish when she turns to see Maggie standing on a chair, and calling for everyone's attention. She's swaying unsteadily and Jackson looks on warily before giving in and grabbing her arm to keep her from falling.

"Meredith? Where's Meredith?" Maggie's half-shouting across the bar, squinting at the faces in the room before spotting Meredith down by her feet. "There you are! Heyyyyyy! I'm making a speech!" She seems delighted and Meredith can feel Amelia's shoulders bouncing up and down in silent laughter next to her.

Meredith glances up at Maggie and gives her a look. "Please don't, Maggie. You don't need to."

"Don't be silly!" Maggie cries, as she waves her glass in the air and narrowly misses dousing half of it over Owen who is standing a few feet away. "Guys! Everyone! I want to tell you about my sister, Meredith." Maggie motions down towards her, and Meredith feels more than a little embarrassed at the number of eyes that are now on her. Instinctively she scans the room for Andrew, and finally spots him just to her left, leaning against the bar with a drink in hand. He shoots her a look of a amusement.

"Maggie, please don't-" Jackson is saying as he tries to help Maggie keep her balance.

"Shhhh," she retorts, trying to place a finger over his mouth and almost poking him in the eye. "I want to talk about my amazing sister. Everyone! Raise your glasses, please!"

Meredith stands there mortified as everyone raises their drink in her direction. Even the interns have stopped playing darts for the moment.

"Mere, you are... so great. And so... cool. You're like a superhero, but you don't have to wear a totally sexist outfit designed by the patriarchy! And I know you hate your birthday, but that's okay, because we love your birthday and we love you! And we want you to be happy, and you seem super happy, so that's all we want, okay?"

The speech is confusing, but it's touching nonetheless, even if Maggie is probably three wines past being in a fit state to be that coherent. And as much as Maggie's endearing drunkenness is probably making her evening, Meredith can't ignore the look that Jackson is sending her - a silent plea to end this now, so they can save as much of Maggie's dignity as possible.

"Thank you, Maggie!" Meredith raises her voice to be heard, and watches as Maggie finally allows Jackson to help her down from the chair. She leans heavily against him, and he mouths a quiet _thank you_ to Meredith in return.

But now she has a room full of people staring at her, glasses still raised, and so, she needs to say something, anything, to get things moving again. Oh, to hell with it, she thinks. Might as well go all in.

"And thank you to everyone for coming. This was really unexpected." Even in her peripheral vision, she can see Andrew's shoulders bob up and down with a short laugh, and she tries to ignore him. "And thank you to my wonderful sisters for organising all of this - even though I can see they just stole all the party supplies from their own nieces and nephew."

There's a ripple of laughter and the knot in her stomach eases a little. Time to wrap this up.

But somehow her mouth keeps going, and she's not sure why. Maybe she's feeling sentimental, it's hard to say. But as she glances over the familiar faces, she knows, once again, that what Maggie said was true. Maybe not about the superhero thing, but certainly about the fact that she's happy. And as her eyes connect once again with his, she realises there probably isn't a better, or easier way, to let everyone know why.

To hell with it, she thinks.

"And you're right Maggie. I am happy. And as many of you know, that hasn't always been easy for me." She doesn't know why she's taking this happy occasion and making it maudlin, so she tries to bring it back on track. The problem is that she's not entirely sure of any of her words until literally the point where they escape her mouth. "And I'm so grateful to all the amazing people in my life who have been there for me, and who have helped me, and gotten me to where I am now." 

Meredith finds herself walking towards him, and as she stops speaking she's right by his side. She doesn't even need to look at him to know there's a question in his eyes, but she swallows down the lump in her throat before she chickens out.

"I've been happier than ever recently, and I know that maybe that's been noted. And-" she takes a breath "-there's a definite reason for that." Meredith can't quite bring herself to make a big showy announcement using the exact words. That isn't her style. So instead, she does the next best thing.

Deliberately and slowly, and in front of everyone, she threads her free hand in Andrew's own, and glances up at him. He looks surprised, but also thrilled, like he's about to burst with affection and love. And just for that second, Meredith feels like it's just him and her, and she can't help but smile softly at him. 

She turns back to the room at large. A silence that she interprets as shocked has fallen over the crowd, and all she can see is dozens and dozens of eyes on them both, and something about the entire situation makes her just want to laugh and laugh.

Suddenly there's a voice from the back of the room. Of all people, it's Koracick.

"Shepherd! You owe me fifty bucks!"

All of a sudden the crowd erupts in a cacophony of noise and excited chatter, and just snippets of conversation reach her from various points around the room. 

"-knew about about a month ago..."

"-her coffee order..."

"-grinning like idiots all the damn time..."

"-secret? We all knew it was happening anyway..."

Meredith has no idea what's quite happened, and she's not quite sure where to look. Everyone seems to be talking to each other, rather than looking at her and Andrew, and although she's not sure what she expected, she's pretty sure it wasn't that.

She glances over at him, bewildered, but instead of looking similarly taken aback, he's shaking from laughter, and now she's even more confused.

"Hey!" she hears Amelia shout, and she watches her sister thread through the crowd towards Koracick. "I said she'd tell us in under two weeks and it's two weeks exactly today."

Koracick is shaking his head. "Two weeks is not under two weeks, brainiac, so you lose. Pay up!"

Maggie's now alert and faux outraged, tugging on Jackson's arm. "Amelia, did you put a _bet_ on our _sister_?!"

Meredith sees Amelia shrug. "What else was I supposed to do? I needed some compensation for the fact that I pretty much heard them having _sex_ the other week!"

"Wait? What?!" Andrew stops laughing next to her, and Meredith's not sure how to react, but she knows her face is bright red. She has a million questions. How? What? When? But even before she can formulate the words, her attention is pulled away.

Alex is pushing his way across the bar, and he's the only one who looks as confused as Meredith feels. She's grateful to see at least someone else who is as puzzled as she is, but instead of coming up to her, her best friend stops next to Jo who is a few feet away. "Why didn't you _tell_ me? I had no idea!"

Jo rolls her eyes, gesturing over to both Andrew and Meredith and talking as if they aren't even within earshot. "I literally just found out! They were making out in front of the bar, and I went looking for Meredith and _saw_ them. You were running late, so I didn't have a chance to tell you!"

Owen appears out of nowhere. "I didn't know either," he reassures Alex, patting him on the back mournfully. If anything, he looks disappointed to have not been privy to the secret that Meredith is rapidly becoming aware was not much of a secret at all. Not even close.

All of a sudden Andrew releases her hand, and instinctively Meredith turns to look at him, and sees that he is now locked in a handshake with Helm, whose expression is stern. It's more of a tussle than a handshake.

"You better not hurt her," Helm warns, and is nothing less than completely serious. Andrew just nods, and sighs in relief as his hand is released and Helm stalks off.

Meredith leans over. "What was _that_ about?"

"I think I know," he murmurs, but doesn't elaborate. Instead, he picks up his drink again and downs the rest of it in one, and then signals the bartender for a refill. 

"I'm not sure how you're being so calm about this," she mumbles, trying to ignore the pained looks that Alex is shooting her - and she realises that she owes him just as much of an apology as anyone else. Even though, it seems, maybe she can cross her sisters off that list given they've known a lot more than they've been letting on. And this certainly explains some of their behaviour recently.

Andrew shrugs, and leans in to give her a kiss on the cheek. Instinctively she goes to jump back and out of his reach, but then at the last minute realises that she doesn't have to anymore. The hard part is done. The news is out there. 

Oh. _Richard_ , she thinks.

"But I need to tell-"

"-Dr. Webber?" Andrew finishes, somehow already a step ahead of her. She knows Richard is still in surgery and she's not keen on him hearing the news secondhand.

She nods. "Yeah. He deserves to hear it from me."

Andrew scrunches his face up, and gives her a look that is hard to misinterpret. "He already knows."

"What?!" 

"He saw me when I went back to get your coat at the restaurant. I didn't tell you, because I didn't think he'd realised. But then I overheard him and Bailey talking about us in the skills lab. And again in the pit the other day. And... also once in the cafeteria."

Her eyes must be the size of dinner plates at this point. There's only so much information her brain can process, and she thinks she might have just hit her limit. "And you didn't _tell_ me?"

He has the good grace to look a little bad about it. "I wanted you to have the time you needed, and I knew they weren't going to mention it to you. I didn't think it would hurt." He looks genuinely worried that he's done something wrong, but even Meredith can't really fault his logic. After all, she had still gotten what she wanted out of these last few months - time. And she's beginning to realise that pretty much everyone in her life was willing to give her that too, to wait until she was ready. She's still got questions for Amelia, undoubtedly, but in hindsight, it's pretty funny. All that effort and thought she had put into sneaking around had, apparently, been for nothing. It seems as if they had been as apparent as the sun in the sky. And yet everyone had let her have it. Andrew included.

She puts him out of his misery by giving him a reassuring smile, and she can see the relief that crosses his face is palpable. "Now, is there anything else I should know?"

"Carina also knew," he spits out with a grimace. " _But_ I didn't tell her. She figured it out. She told me she tried to wait until I told her, but patience is not her strong suit." As if on cue, Meredith spots Carina across the room, and the woman smiles, raising her glass in their direction before falling back into conversation with the other women from the maternity wing.

"So..." Meredith sighs, and noticing her glass of wine is empty, snatches his now refilled drink from out his hand and takes a quick sip. Whiskey, not her favourite, but she'll make it work. "... we've learnt that apparently we were the worst kept secret of all time?"

He chuckles softly, and lets his finger trace a line up her bare forearm. Her senses go on high alert. "Quite possibly, yes. Does this mean we can get rid of the rules now?"

She scoffs, and places his drink down on the bar. After all of this, all of the secrets and lies and attempts at privacy, she's about willing to throw caution to the wind and embrace utter recklessness. Standing on her tiptoes, her mouth finds the his ear, and she lowers her voice to a whisper. "Do you think that if we were to go and have sex in my car right now, we could keep that a secret?"

His eyes flick down to meet her own, and once again, the expression in them causes her stomach to swoop. His pupils are dark and hungry, and the curve of his smile is everything. "I don't know, Dr. Grey. But I'm willing to try."


End file.
